The Memories that Burn
by Zosocrowe
Summary: Fayt's been captured by Greeton. Nel and Albel must work together to retrieve him, but Albel's dark past haunts him, drawing Nel into a battle of vengence and horror. NelAlbel
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

By: Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time  
I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create a silly fan story.  
I have no money either.  
10/28/04

(Revised 4/10/05)

_So, this is my first videogame fan fiction piece. I only have four other stories archived here on I have been out of the writing loop for quite sometime, so I apologize for the rusty work. Something about Star Ocean 3 just struck me. I love characters like Albel. There are so many possibilities for them. This is **not** a "Mary Sue" fic, for those worried about that kind of thing (I don't care for them either). You won't find characters fighting over each other, no one is too perfect, no outrageous jealousy...and practically no romance (no mushy mushy stuff here), though, the pairing is listed in the summary._

_Constructive criticism is always welcome, but I loathe flamers, so play nice or don't play at all. :-)_

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A young girl stood beneath a gnarled ash, its twisted branches heavy with brilliant orange berries and thick, dense foliage. The wind rustled about them, scurrying up eddies of dust in playful spirals and teasing the ivory silk of the girl's dress. She quietly stared out over a barren plain, a delicate hand resting gently against the weathered bark of the tree. The sun was setting, a bright half circle on the horizon beyond the mountain peaks. Before them lay the field, a variation of browns and grays, spotted with rush grasses and bunch weeds. An uninteresting sight, commonly bland, except that on this occasion the ground was dashed with crimson; as if a mad painter flicked his brush across the landscape.

Amidst the carnage of battle, Albel Nox used his boot to pull his blade from the breast of some faceless solider. Blood arced over him and a few drops coloring his face; however, he didn't notice. His eyes were fixed upon the ghostly figure standing peacefully on the little knoll above the battle field. The great ash tree shook and trembled as he took a step closer, and a flock of screaming crows burst from its branches in an explosion of ebony.

"...the hell?" Albel muttered to himself, watching the crows disappear into the sky.

He sheathed his sword, the Crimson Scourge, and turned his attention back to the figure in white. What was a woman doing in a place like this? Curious, he stepped onto the sandy path, stepping over the arm of some foolish sap. As he maneuvered his way around the stands of rabbit bush and sage, an eerie calm settled over war torn field. His footsteps pounded amidst the silence like a blacksmiths hammer in his head. Unsettled, he kept his sharp eyes trained on the figure despite wanting to look about himself.

He wasn't sure what compelled him to investigate the woman's presence. It wasn't uncommon for foolish peasants to get caught up in a battle and it certainly wasn't his duty to look out for their safety. Yet somehow, something told him this stranger wasn't a commoner. Perhaps it was the regal way her dress flowed about her legs, or the way the light danced off the sheer shawl she held at her breast. No peasant would wear such courtly clothing. Had she been kidnapped by the enemy? Would he know her, being a noble himself?

A voice in his head echoed, "No". It was so strong his feet faltered. A place low in his gut churned a warning. Something wasn't right. In fact, something was very, very wrong. Albel shook his head, confused. He would almost say he was afraid,; if he didn't know any better. Cautious he was; fearful he wasn't. He continued forward, a thumb nervously caressing the hilt of his sword.

At the base of the knoll, he scowled upward into the glare of the setting sunlight. The woman still stood quietly, her back to him, as she gazed out to the horizon. Annoyed she hadn't heard him approach and even more irritated at his silly apprehensions, he barked a terse "hey" at her. He expected her to scream and jump about but, when she didn't, that unsettling feeling welled in his gut and he reached for his sword. "Hey," he said again, his eyes narrowing, "I'm talking to you."

The girl twitched slightly, as if she'd been bitten by something. Slowly she turned her face over her shoulder and smiled. "Albel," she said, her voice but a whisper grabbed by the wind.

Albel staggered backwards, stumbling over a boulder, nearly falling. His eyes widened into an unbelieving stare. He gazed in horror at the smiling face, his mind trying to wrap its steely claws around the racing emotions streaming through his body.

Puzzled, the girl turned to him, her head cocked curiously to one side and her lips still smiling at him gently. Her pale gold hair fell over one shoulder as she gazed down at him with a strange sort of wonderment on her brow. In her hands, she held a loose bundle of brazen royal blue blankets to her bosom. The rich blue was so brilliant the color was like a large blot of wet ink against her pale robes.

Albel couldn't help but tear his eyes away from her face and glance at the woolen cloth she held to her breast. The swath shifted slightly and a cold chill ran up his spine and spread throughout his body.

He forced himself to look once again at the pleasant face of the young woman. He shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear his vision. This wasn't possible. They were dead. Long dead and buried with the worms. He'd watched them die, murdered before his very eyes nearly three years ago. A spark of anger curled like a newborn flame gasping for air. He let it burn, consuming his fear and pain with a comforting familiarity. He curled a trembling hand around his sword and gazed angrily at the subject of his torn feelings.

"What sort of sick trickery is this," he growled.

The petite girl's smile deepened and she hugged her blankets closer. "You've been gone so long, my lord, I grew worried," she replied, oblivious to his question.

"Worried?" Albel repeated, frowning at her. Hearing her voice caused his heart of constrict and an uncomfortable tightness settled in his chest.

She laughed and did a slight semi twirl, making her skirts swirl about her ankles. "Yes! It's been so long, I was afraid Kaine would forget what you looked like," she said.

Albel stiffened, the hairs on his neck standing upright. "Kai…Kaine," he whispered, glancing at the blue bundle she held. Confusion gave birth to another surge of anger and he stepped away. "He was but a mere pup. He'd barely seen my face to begin with, so how could he possibly forget it, stupid woman," he said, baring his teeth at her.

The girl laughed again and moved closer. She started to unswath the blankets with a sick cheerfulness that made Albel ill. "Don't be silly, my lord," she said. "He's not a dog."

Albel shivered. Part of his boggled mind screamed at him to strike the mad wench down, but his hand trembled carelessly. He knew what stood before him was a monstrous hoax, but a thread of uncertainly had coiled itself around his feelings like a thorny bramble.

"Kasia," he heard himself say in warning, though the girl seemed not to notice.

Her name was painful upon his lips. Images of desperation and feelings of remorse threatened to eat away the iron fibers that held him together and for one of the few times in his life, Albel felt afraid. He desperately searched within himself for that place he found comfort, but it wasn't to be found. His anger, his hatred, his pride was smothered by things far larger than he could fathom.

"There!"

Her voice caused Albel to jump. Her smile was twisted, almost crazed as she let the blankets fall to the ground and about her dainty feet. She thrust a tiny shape forward expectantly, holding it under what appeared to be small arms.

Albel felt his heart stop beating. A strange, wounded noise gurgled from the back of his throat as he gazed upon the eyeless sockets of what appeared to be his son. The tiny head lolled to one side and patches of brittle, dark hair clung to leathery pieces of the remaining scalp. Maggots writhed about the empty eyes and from the corners of a lipless mouth.

Kasia frowned when Albel balked. "What's the matter, my lord," she asked, "Does your son not please you?" She gave the corpse a slight shake and the rotting head rolled about, spilling maggots onto her dress and to the ground. "Do _we_ not please you," she asked again, but this time with anger in her voice.

"Stop," Albel whispered, closing his eyes. Her reminded himself it wasn't real. Over and over he repeated the mantra like a cultish chant. He used it as a medium to wade though his wretched emotions, to clear his clouded brain from whatever black magic was being worked. Somewhere was his safe spot. That place familiar to him. The place where he could gain control. Without it, he would drown in his weaknesses; in his sin.

Kasia continued, her crazed rage growing. "Oh, that's right," she sneered. "Albel the Wicked is too mighty to be bothered with nucenses such as we. We're nothing but worms! Less than maggots! That's why you let us die." Gone was the amicable young woman who stood so serenely under the great ash tree. Her pretty face contorted into wild, deranged mask of hatred and loathing.

"Shut up," Albel whispered.

"You watched while we were murdered. You did nothing to stop our pain. Did you enjoy it? Did you like seeing our blood stain the floor red? Did our screams excite you, Lord Albel?" An ugly smirk smeared her pretty face and she cackled like hag. "Us dying was the best thing that ever happened to you, wasn't it? You hated us. Hated being tied to us. You hated everything about us, except our deaths."

"Silence." Albel's voice trembled.

Kasia dropped the decaying corpse into the dirt and stepped over it. "No?" she asked, peering at him with insane eyes. "Then do you admit you were too weak to save us from that fate? Is that what you're trying to tell me? It was your fault we died the way we did. Your quest for power. Your arrogance. Your stupidity. If you couldn't save us, then you at least owe us an apology. Am I right, my lord?"

"SHUT UP," Albel snarled, unleashing the rage inside him that had built up and festered like a boil. Her words let him tap into his anger, forcing it to explode around him. His trembling ceased and with a sure hand, he drew his blade in one swift motion. It sang as it left the scabbard, crying for blood and found it when cold steel pierced Kasia's startled body. She had no time to move, no time to run or even scream. Blood flew as she was cleaved neatly in two, covering Albel in a warm wetness and staining the ground a brilliant shade of red.

Albel watched with a hollow expression as the two halves of Kasia's body fell to the ground. He wasn't sure how he felt about what he'd just done, but something inside him died, he was sure of it. A fallacious peace settled over him, and he sheathed the Crimson Scourge, not noticing how badly his hand quaked. He glanced at the prone body of the child, his brow creasing into a frown, then turned to leave.

"You always were a heartless murderer."

The ghostly chuckle stopped Albel's retreat. He looked over his shoulder at the smirking face of Kasia, laying in a heap of sparkling bone and gore. "To think, Albel the Wicked would try his hand at happiness," she went on, her voice deepening until it wasn't her own. "What a farce that turned out to be. You reek of death, Albel. Your selfishness caused our demise and for that, your life is utterly honorless. You'll burn in despair and sin for what you've done."

Albel lingered a moment, then shrugged before moving down the path. "Maybe," he replied, "But who ever said I was happy with you, Kasia?"

* * *

Albel lurched forward, throwing his heavy woolen blankets and linen sheets about his naked waist. His steel gauntlet flailed wildly, catching a small wooden night stand and sending it crashing to the floor. A grimy layer of sweat oozed from his pores and beaded about his temples as he gasped for breath. With wild eyes, his gaze darted about the room, checking the deepest recesses of the shadows for imaginary bogeymen and hidden enemies. 

Finding nothing, he took a deep breath and willed the adrenaline coursing through his blood to recede. Once calm, he sat in his bed, hands fisted in the blankets pooled in his lap, and gazed out the frosty window at the first hint of dawn.

"Another dream," he thought to himself out loud, then shook his head. No, dreams weren't like that. They were nothing so tame. It was a nightmare, one of many that had plagued him for almost three years. It irked him that he still awoke, shaken like a child. He assumed that he would grow accustomed to the horrors that haunted him at night, but the peace he longed for never surfaced. Over and over again he relived the death and rebirth of his wife in son. His nightmares had so many shapes, he couldn't even begin to remember them all anymore.

Three years in the grave they were. That was more than enough time for a man such as he to forget, but forget he couldn't. Why, he didn't know, though that wasn't to say he hadn't pondered the very question since the day they died. It wasn't as if his falsetto family meant much to him. He hardly knew his wife and his son was barely out of the womb before his life was ended. There were no attachments other than the legalities of an arranged marriage and that of an heir. He did his duty to his family by fulfilling the betrothal of his father's wishes and by securing an offspring capable of continuing the Nox line. Other than providing the basic necessities for his family, his job had been completed, as far as he was concerned.

But why...

Why did the thought of their deaths weigh so heavy on his mind?

Albel leaned forward on his bed and placed his good hand over his face. Why was it he couldn't forget these two infuriating creatures? Why did their memory hurt so badly? Albel closed his eyes against the knot in his chest. Outside, the sun broke over the walls of Kirlsa, beckoning forth a welcome to another brilliant fall day.

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_I've actually edited this chapter, toning down the writing style. It's been awhile since I've sat down and written such a story, I'd lost the feel for what was comfortable. I also took a chance with a minor original character, plagued with worries of "Mary Sue" coming to rain on my parade. ha ha. I have no intention of making Kasia perfect, or Albel being so in love with her (gag) he can't see straight (she's not even a main character...). It might appear that way at first, but trust me, not everything is as it seems (evil smile)._

Chapter 2: Woltar has a visitor and receives some disturbing news...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

By: Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time  
I have merely borrowed a couple characters to createa silly fan story.  
I have no money either.

11/01/04

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Woltar grasped the polished oak banister as he climbed the stairs to his office at a tedious pace. He cursed his old bones and arthritic joints. One of those mysterious "transporters" the off-worlders used so often would be nice right about now. Then again, he wasn't sure if he liked the idea of beaming his body into a billion molecular parts. Those things couldn't work correctly all the time. He shuddered at the thought and decided he'd rather traipse up and down the stairs on creaking knees and sore ankles than have a leg replaced with an arm. Or worse, losing them all together. 

He paused at the top, catching his breath. The nearby guard was watching him, but Woltar gave him an irritated looked that said, "Don't even think about it." The guard's beady eyes, visible just beneath his visor snapped ahead and Woltar straightened the lapels of his tailored coat. He might be an old man, but he'd be damned before he let any of his men hand feed him pity for it. He was still lord of his manor and captain of the Storm Brigade.

He cleared his throat as he approached his office. "Have you seen Albel about," he asked the stoic guardsman. A bead of sweat trickled from his temple and he resisted the urge to reach into his pocket for his handkerchief. Damn old age.

"Lord Albel?" the guard asked with a slight shake of his head, "No, I haven't sir."

Woltar frowned and glanced at the guestroom that Albel often used, despite having his own small residence adjacent to the training facility. "Odd," he murmured. "He's usually up by now."

Perhaps he'd actually gone to his own home last night, though Woltar found that highly unlikely. The Nox residence hadn't seen a human being in months; he knew this because he went to look for Albel there once and found the small manor ridden with rats and layered in dust. Albel wouldn't return there unless he had to, and the young lord made sure he had no reason to go there by moving what little items he considered valuable into the basement storeroom of Woltar's mansion.

Still, Albel's absence made him uneasy. Though unpredictable in more ways than Woltar cared to count, Albel's morning routine was fairly consistent. Unless he was away on the King's command, Woltar could count on seeing the lithe young solider pacing outside his office like an irritated panther each morning. There was no real need for the morning meetings, except that Woltar suspected it set Albel's mind at ease somehow. If there was anything the young Nox needed at this moment in time, it was a familiar face that he could at least place a little bit of trust in; though it would be a cold day in the Urssa Lava Caves before the proud warrior would ever admit it.

"Well," Woltar replied to the guard, "if you see him, tell him I wish to speak to him in my office."

The guard sort of winced, the thought of having to speak to captain of the Black Brigade obviously rattling his nerve, but he nodded and replied with a sharp, "Yes sir."

Woltar pushed open the heavy door and let it fall shut with a click behind him. He cast a solemn look at the stacks of parchment sitting on his desk. Never a day's rest, even for an old man such as himself. Ever since the restoration and treaty with Aquaria he found himself doing less "commanding" and more paper pushing. War was bloody, but it was certainly less complicated that all the politics and red tape that came along with alliances.

He sighed and slowly removed his coat, hanging it neatly on a tree-like hat rack. He took his time pouring himself a cup of tea that one of the maids had set out for him, aware he wasn't alone in the room. "You know," he said, stirring the steaming cup with a silver spoon, "you can give an old man a heart attack sneaking about like that, Ms. Zelpher." He smiled warmly and looked to the window, where a slim shadow stepped out from behind the heavy draperies.

The sunlight streaming through the awesome windows glinted from Nel Zelpher's breastplate and rippled along the sheen of her vibrant red hair. A slight smile, not quite friendly but neither hostile, played about her lips. She crossed her arms in front of her and leaned on a hip. "As cunning as ever, Lord Woltar," she replied.

Woltar arched a furry brow and shuffled to his desk. "Cunning? Me? I'm not the one sneaking through windows or hiding in curtains." Nel shrugged and he shook head as he sat down into his high-backed, oak framed chair. "You could use the front door, you know. Our days of sneaking about each other are long over," he said.

Nel moved around his desk and took the chair opposite of him. She crossed her legs casually, but something in her posture told Woltar the young lady was incredibly tense.

"Tell that to your guardsmen," she said, fixing him in a suspicious stare.

A look of genuine surprise passed over Woltar's face. "They refused you an audience?" he asked. When Nel gave him a stiff nod, he leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together. "I do apologize," he offered after thinking for a moment. "Things these days have everyone on edge. I hope you won't take it as a personal offense."

"I asked to see Captain Nox," Nel told him, "and that's when things got dicey."

There was a curiosity in her eye that Woltar didn't particularly like. The girl was as quick as her father had been. He'd have to be very careful how he worded this conversation. "So it's Albel you seek?" he asked, his voice growing quiet. "I believe he is around, somewhere, though I can't be certain."

"So you don't know if he's here or not?" she said; her tone was suspicious as the look upon her face. "The King told me about the same thing, then sent me here. It struck me as strange that he, of all people, wouldn't know the whereabouts of one of his key commanders." Nel really couldn't care less how Airyglyph ran its military, but she was irked by the obvious run around she was getting. Since when did the notorious Albel the Wicked become a national secret?

Woltar stared at her for a long moment, his intertwined fingers tapping out an irregular beat on his knuckles. Finally, he smiled slightly and chuckled. "May I ask why you require an audience with Albel? I don't mean to appear like I'm prying, but Albel has been very...busy as of late. He's asked me to take care of any small details that arise." It wasn't exactly a lie. The young captain was busy with various things, though none of them pertained to national politics or military business.

Nel's brow folded into a frown. For some reason, it appeared that the Glyphians were trying hard to hide their Black Brigade Captain away from the rest of the world. Woltar's ruse wasn't concealing anything from her. The King had reacted the same way Woltar did when she asked to see Albel; he feigned ignorance and then shuffled her off elsewhere.

She wasn't about to be shuffled again. "Really, I have no obligation to tell you, but since it appears I won't see Albel until I do, I'll let you win...for now. I could care less about whatever you're trying to hide, but the Queen has sent me to ask Captain Nox for some assistance in a matter."

Now Woltar's bushy brows arched high on his forehead. "Indeed," he replied, now clearly interested in what she had to say. "To ask Lord Albel for assistance--it must be of great importance!" He couldn't think of any reason Aquaria would need a man as ruthless and unbiddable as Albel. He wasn't their cup of tea. Not one bit.

Nel leaned forward, placing both her feet on the floor. "If you consider Fayt being in danger 'of great importance', then yeah," she said, her eyes holding Woltar's in a serious glare.

"What?" Woltar started, dropping his hands to his desk, his wrinkled eyes widening. "Master Fayt is in danger? What has happened? I thought he was living peacefully in Peterny?" He certainly hadn't expected something of this magnitude. To be truthful, he'd thought Ms. Zelpher had perhaps come to pay a visit to her old comrade in arms--but that was probably just senility setting in.

"He was," Nel continued, "but he took a trip to a planet called Roak to visit that girl, Sophia, and her mother for a few weeks. When he returned, the ship's transporter had a 'glitch'--I think that's what they called it--and he was sent to an island just off the coast of Greeton."

Woltar nodded slightly. Those transporter things weren't as reliable as he suspected. "Still, why don't the off-worlders fix this? Fayt is familiar with this 'transporting', so why don't they just pick him up and then send him where he needs to go?"

Nel shook her head and scowled angrily. "They won't do it. They contacted us long enough to tell us where he was and that they were already behind schedule. We could either get him ourselves or he could wait for them to send another ship, which wouldn't be available for another two weeks."

Woltar was outraged at the information. He clenched his fists amidst the parchment and shook his head in disbelief. "They are still angry that Master Fayt refused their offer to work for their new government. This is a slap in his face for that transgression." It was so obvious it was disgusting.

He had to admit, at one point in time he was astounded at how easily Fayt gave up all the comforts of his advanced lifestyle and chose to live on Elicoor, a primitive world full of uncertainties and harshness. Yet as the years passed, Woltar began to understand that perchance the comforts of technology weren't quite so "comfortable". In fact, as Fayt explained it, life was far more complicated with all the gadgets and inventions. People on advanced worlds were lazy and focused on the material things in life. They'd forgotten what it was like to feel pride in working hard for something. They'd forgotten how to cherish their families and friends because there was little fear of death from illness, war, or starvation. They'd forgotten how to live like people should live, by embracing their lives each day; Fayt wanted no part of that world any longer. He loved Elicoor for its simplicity and purity, so he asked if he could remain on the planet, and no one contested.

Except the new Federation government. They wanted Fayt to join them in their research and development department. They offered him a high position job and plush benefits, but he declined. The only job they were really asking him to do was be a guinea pig and he'd had enough of that. He decided that no one else should be made to suffer the burden that he, Maria, and Sophia carried within them. All three refused and that rankled the new government's hackles. They subtly threatened, bribed, and blackmailed, but nothing worked. There was nothing they could do and all that was left was petty stunts such as this.

Pathetic.

Nel sighed, totally understanding Woltar's anger. "I suspect you're right. Since Fayt declined and we offered him amnesty, they don't feel obligated to respect him. Now that he's a citizen from a lower class world, that is..."

Woltar closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "And they call us 'primitive'. Simply amazing. At least we know how to honor those who we owe our lives...no, our very existence to." He looked at Nel then, his wizened face softening somewhat.

Nel could feel her cheeks redden and she bowed her head. She knew what he was thinking, that she was one of those so-called honored people, but he was wrong. What she did was her duty. Fate, no pun intended, had dealt her the card and she played it. She had no doubt that the others felt any differently than she did. She cleared her throat. "Well, there's not much we can do about their government, but we can help Fayt. Aquarians take care of their own," she said, raising her chin with pride.

"As do us Glyphians," Woltar added, meeting her eye. They shared a moment, the knowledge that Fayt was neither Aquarian nor Glyphian, but an Elicoorian. He held no alliances anymore, nor would either country force him to ever choose. Once he became one of them, he'd vowed to protect Elicoor with his powers from outsiders seeking conquest, revenge, or whatever calamity that might come their way from the reaches of space. He asked for nothing in return, other than to live in peace among friends. The least they could do was offer him what feeble protection they could provide.

"So," Nel broke the silence, "May I speak to Albel now that you know the situation?"

Woltar sighed deep and heavy. He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers once again, while his brow puckered. He couldn't deny her an audience with Albel now, though he wasn't quite certain why the captain was so important to this mission. It made more sense to send in a handful of the Queen's soldiers to extract Fayt. He suspected that Lady Nel was leaving out some important information. "I'll certainly pose the question to him, but I must say, taking someone like Albel along on such a simple mission is like...say...bringing a dragon to a dog fight...So let me put it bluntly, Ms. Zelpher, why Albel?"

Nel smiled slightly and crossed her arms. "Nothing gets past you, does it old man," she said.

"I've lived too long to be easily fooled, young lady," he said, chuckling with good nature.

Nel snorted lightly at his confidence. "Fine. If it means I get to speak with Captain Nox, so be it." She leaned forward, all amusement seeping from her face. "Fayt has been taken captive."

Woltar's face fell and paled. "What?" he whispered.

"Yes. He was found by the Greetonites and taken captive. Thinking this would be a simple mission, we sent a group in right away to retrieve him. Apparently a rescue was far too risky, considering the technology of Greeton, so they hurried back to the Queen with this information. That's when she sent me to find Commander Nox."

Woltar couldn't believe what he was hearing. For the longest time, Greeton had remained a solitary nation, avoiding the rest of the world as if it didn't even exist. They weren't regarded as a threat, though everyone knew that a war with them was something best avoided. Hearing now that they'd taken Fayt into custody was bleak news indeed.

"Certainly they aren't a threat to Master Fayt," Woltar said. "With his powers..."

"Fayt's power is unpredictable. He controls it better now than he did when it first manifested, but he won't use it to protect himself. You should know that, Woltar," Nel cut him off, shaking her head sadly.

Woltar almost rolled his eyes. What was it with the youth of today? You could place a golden egg in their hen house and they'd over look it without glancing twice. It was enough to drive an old man to his grave. Though he did give Fayt some credit; that boy was at least aware of his golden egg, he just refused to pick it up--unlike some other people Woltar knew. "I see," he finally said. "I suppose I have no choice then. We must tell Lord Albel…but…"

Nel frowned at the weariness in Woltar's voice. He said Albel's name as if he was drudging through thick sludge, and if she didn't know any better, the old man suddenly looked very tired. She knew Albel was a troublemaker, and she didn't particularly like then haughty man, but she couldn't help but wonder why there seemed to be so much secrecy surrounding him these days. Now that she thought about it, there'd been little to no news of him over the past few years. In fact, she'd only seen him on two or three occasions shortly after the incident with Luther. It was like he disappeared completely from the face of Elicoor.

Woltar stood and reached for his cane, which was propped next to the edge of his huge oak desk. He gave Nel a smile, though she could see it was forced, and offered her a hand. "Shall we go see if Lord Nox is awake?"

Nel's eye's widened. It was at least an hour to noon. She couldn't possibly believe Albel, a commanding officer, would still be a bed at this time of day. She also knew, from her travels with him, that the man rarely slept and always rose at the break of dawn. "Is he sick?" she blurted out, too astounded to be ashamed of her rudeness.

Woltar looked over his shoulder and arched a brow. His lips twisted into an odd half smile half frown and he replied, "Hmmm. I never thought of it that way." With that, he continued out the door with his usual slow, shuffling steps while Nel followed behind him, puzzled by the cryptic remark.

* * *

Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it! 

This chapter was revised and edited for errors on 4/10/05


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

By:Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create

a silly fan story. I have no money either.

* * *

Albel wasn't in his guestroom suite. Woltar had expected as much. Still, the room showed signs that he'd obviously been there sometime during the night; the bed was tore apart, the sheets twisted in knots and the heavy quilt crumpled at the foot. Oddly, a small nightstand lay on its side and a haphazard glass was in pieces on the floor. In the corner of the room, a rather expensive bed robe of royal blue and crimson was piled carelessly.

"Hmmm," Woltar mumbled. "It would appear our elusive Lord Albel woke up in a foul mood."

Nel peeked over his shoulder discretely. She was a bit uncomfortable. The last place she ever expected to find herself was in the bedroom of Albel the Wicked. The thought almost scared her. Who knew what kind of things went on inside such a place? As twisted and sadistic as the young captain appeared, she'd expected to enter a torture chamber, and was rather surprised to see a regular bedroom, furnished with only the barest accommodations. No whips, no chains, no bed of nails; just a regular room with a small bed, obscure nightstand, and lonely wooden chair behind the door. She knew peasants that had fancier rooms than his. How bizarre.

"Why's the window open?" she asked, feeling a chilly draft on her bare arms. It was autumn and far too cold to sleep with open windows, even for a Glyphian native. Kirlsa wasn't nearly as cold as Airyglyph during the fall and winter months, but the chill still demanded respect. Not even the icy blood of Albel Nox would tolerate such a biting freeze when unnecessary.

Woltar glanced at the window and pursed his lips. The sheer curtains fluttered slightly, beckoning them to come closer. "Guard!" Woltar shouted, his loud voice giving Nel a start. When an iron clad solider lumbered in, the old man looked over his shoulder. "How long have you been on duty?" he asked.

"Since midnight, sir," the guard replied.

"Did you see Captain Nox last night?"

The guard thought for a moment and nodded. "Yes, he came in shortly after I took up my station."

"Did you see him leave?

The guard shook his iron helmet from side to side. "No, I didn't, sir," he replied.

Woltar gave the window a sullen look and waved the guard away. He took in the wrecked room once again and sighed. "Really, Albel," he muttered to under his breath.

Nel waited quietly by the doorway. She was uncomfortable enough being in Albel's quarters, but the old man's silence was making her even more nervous. The mess in the room was suspicious, even to her. She didn't confess to know much about him, but Albel never struck her as the type to be messy or "recklessly" violent. Everything he did had a purpose; anything else was wasted energy.

She glanced back at the guard, who stood as still as a stone statue at his post near the foot of the stairs. There were only one set of stairs leading to the first floor. If Albel left, he'd have had to walk right by the guard. She wondered if the overworked soldier had fallen asleep. No doubt, Albel could be as silent as a cat when he wished to be. A snoozing guard might not notice him pass by. But why would Albel let him remain asleep? Surely he wouldn't miss an opportunity to terrify a careless subordinate. He enjoyed his title as "the wicked" far too much be lenient.

She looked back to the window.

Why was it open and where was Albel?

Woltar turned to her and smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid," he said, gesturing to the window, "Lord Albel has left us and I'm not certain where he's gone."

Nel's eyes widened in disbelief as she let her gaze follow his hand. "What? You can't mean he..." her voice trailed off and she started across the room and wrenched open the curtains. Peering down the slick, stone walls she shook her head in wonder. "You've got to be kidding me. Why?" Jerking her head back inside, she turned and gazed at Woltar expectantly.

Woltar wasn't sure what to say. He knew he couldn't hide much from the Lady Nel, but truth be told, he was a bit befuddled himself. Over the past few years, Albel had pulled a few boggling stunts, but the last time he climbed though his bedroom window, he'd been a fourteen year old boy smitten by the feminine charms and loose skirt of a certain maid. That was ridiculous, but this was absurd.

And embarrassing.

How could he even possibly explain Albel's actions without airing the dirty laundry of a fellow noble, not to mention his best friend's son, who he'd swore on his grave to look after? He'd hoped that Albel would come around on his own, but it was becoming painfully evident that that was just a foolish fantasy. The stubborn boy was far too wrapped up in his own emotions to tell what was what anymore. Albel had never been one to let things go easily, but this time his madness was affecting them all. No one knew when a notion would strike him, and a heavy cloud of unease had settled itself upon all those forced to deal with him. In a matter of time, something would have to be done about it. Woltar hated to think of what the consequences would be, but no doubt, it would be he who would have to administer them.

Nel's shoulders slumped and she took a deep breath. What should be a simple task had somehow turned into a major ordeal. She wasn't sure what she had stumbled into and it didn't look like the old man was going to tell her, but she had her orders. The Queen had specifically told her to seek out Nox and ask his assistance. She wasn't leaving before she'd fulfilled her mission. "Okay, so you don't know where he went?" she asked, biting back the annoyance. "Do you have any clue where he MIGHT have gone?"

Woltar started to shrug and tell her that her guess was as good as his, but he was interrupted by a loud shout from the main foyer downstairs. They both turned as the sound of heavy armor, chiming like poorly matched cymbals, beat up the narrow staircase.

"Captain! Captain!" a solider cried.

Nel and Woltar shared a look, and Woltar did his best to appear confident. "It looks like we're about to find out," he replied with a halfhearted chuckle.

A distraught solider careened up the stairs and around the banister. He plowed to a stop before Woltar and tried to bow an apology, but instead, keeled over for lack of air. "Captain," he wheezed, "You're needed at the Keep."

"The Keep?" Woltar asked, his tone surprised.

Nel glanced at him, alarmed. She knew the Keep was where they kept the dragons used to travel from Kirlsa to Airyglyph. Trouble with dragons was never good news.

"It's Lord Albel, sir," the young solider continued.

"Albel? Whatever is he doing there?" Woltar asked, straightening in alarm.

Nel leaned against the doorframe, hiding her surprise with a face of indifference. What indeed? Albel wasn't overly fond of dragons. Not that she could blame him. He'd lost his father and an arm to a dragon long ago in a ceremonial rite that went horribly wrong. He respected the beasts enough, but loathed them all the same. If left with a choice, he'd rather walk than ride one, so his being at the Keep was an interesting bit of information. Was the Captain in such a hurry to get away?

The youth in armor was beside himself with panic, though Nel had to give him points for remaining coherent. "Sir, he's taking a dragon! The others are trying to distract him, but things are...getting out of hand..." He needed not to elaborate further. Not even a handful of the Storm Brigade's best men could stand up to the captain of the Black Brigade in a fight. To make matters worse, Albel was their superior officer and they were no doubt terrified of what punishment he'd dole out for being defied. Also, Albel's own men wouldn't stand in his way, and most likely they'd made themselves scarce the minute trouble began.

"Are you saying he's commandeered a dragon?" Woltar asked, obviously astounded.

"I'm sorry sir, we've been trying to stop him but..."

Woltar put up a hand. "Let it be. I'll go settle this myself," he said.

He dismissed the youth and started for the steps. When he reached the top, he stopped for a moment before looking back at Nel. "My lady, would it be too much to ask of your assistance?"

Nel arched her brows and cocked her head. "I'm not too keen on getting my hands dirty with Airyglyph's personal problems." She leaned against the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest.

Woltar gave her a strange, almost sad look. "No worries then. The personal part of this problem is hardly Airyglyph's," he replied, "it's Albel's."

"Huh?" Nel frowned at his remark, but Woltar had already disappeared down the stairs, his steps all too quick for a man with arthritic joints and old bones. Nel glanced back at the bedroom and shook her head. If getting involved with Airyglyph personal problems was an issue, diving into Albel Nox's could only be worse. Then again, perhaps it would be a good idea to see what was going on after all. A rogue Albel wouldn't benefit any of them, and left alone, could be catastrophic. Nel already had her fair share of catastrophes to deal with. The last thing she needed was another one.

* * *

A familiar, haughty laugh greeted them as the made their way around the corner of one of the many brick training foyers. Woltar's pace remained steady, but he was moving a bit faster than his regular shuffle. A disturbing sign. Nel followed behind him, keeping close to his heels and burying the nervous energy that nipped at her from all sides.

"Are you, a lowly maggot, giving me, your superior officer, an order? Either you are delusional, or a bigger fool that I suspected." It was obviously Albel's voice that carried over one of the buildings that stood between them and him. There was a lethal hostility in his voice. Nel glanced at the back of Woltar's head and wondered if he'd noticed it as well. Albel wasn't simply trying to intimidate a tactic he utilized when handling weaker opponents. No, he was genuinely angry, which meant serious consequences for those on the receiving end of his sword.

"No sir, that's not what I meant!" came a shaky reply. "Commander...I mean, Lord Woltar wishes to speak to you before you go!"

A strained silence hung on the air, then a peel of laughter erupted. "You're a pathetic liar," Albel snapped, his laughter ending abruptly, "Do you take me for an idiot?"

"No sir! Please, just calm down..."

"Calm down? I am calm, you clown! If I wasn't, I'd have slit your throat and gouged out your eyes by now!" Albel shouted, "Now get out of my way before I really get..." There was the sound of a sword leaving its sheath and a panicked murmur.

Nel went for her blades, her entire body stiffening. A trickle of fear ran down her spine. She'd faced Albel before, but she'd had the help of two strong comrades. Taking him alone was something she wasn't certain she was capable of. The soldiers gathered in the courtyard wouldn't be much help, they were already to spooked by the angry captain. He'd cut through them like bales of moldy straw if it came to a fight. No, she would have to make her mark count if things got out of hand.

Woltar rounded the final turn and motioned for Nel to wait just behind one of the rotting walls of the courtyard, out of sight. She couldn't see Albel, but she had a clear view of Woltar's back. The old commander had stopped just inside her line of vision, and Nel understood. She was his trump card, the ace that would steal the game right from under Albel's nose. Or so they hoped.

"Albel! Stand down!"

Albel jumped, his senses muddled by his anger and thirst for vengeance, but still recognizing the voice that held years and years of parental authority over him. He craned his neck around and peered over his shoulder at Woltar. Another round of heavy silence followed as the two sized one another up, the seconds ticking away for what seemed like hours. Finally, Albel straightened and smiled a sarcastic, boyish smile. "Well, well," he smirked, "The calvary has arrived, I assume?"

Woltar stepped forward and let his face slip into the mask of elderly indifference. He greeted Albel with a small smile of his own and placed his hands unthreatening behind his back. "I've been looking for you, Albel. A matter that requires your immediate attention has come up. Come with me to my office so we can discuss it."

Albel's eyes narrowed in suspicion, his smirk slipping from his lips like liquid. "You got that right, old coot," he growled, flexing his jagged claws. Woltar cocked his head in confusion and Albel sneered. "I've got a matter to settle with that demon worm, Romero, back in Airyglyph. Your problems are no concern of mine."

Woltar tried to remain unimpressed, but he felt his brows arch at the mention of the demon prince's name. It was no secret that the bad blood between Albel and the monster king ran putrid with hatred and wounded pride. Every meeting between the two had ended in a blood bath, but by some twisted miracle, neither had died yet in one of those horrible battles. As far as Woltar knew, Romero had mysteriously disappeared after the last clash. That fateful day had changed the course of everyone's lives, but no doubt, Romero was hidden somewhere deep inside the labyrinth beneath the castle, watching and waiting.

"Albel," Woltar began, his tone cautious, "Don't be a fool. You're playing right into the devil's hands."

Albel's right eye twitched and his jaw tightened. "I'm not stupid, but if you must know, I don't care," he snapped. "This ridiculous game of his ends today. One of us is going to die." The last sentence fell from his lips in a hiss, as if he couldn't find the words he wished to speak.

"As you are now, it'll be you," Woltar replied quickly. "This 'game' of yours changed years ago, Albel. You've seen what he is capable of." Woltar's face tightened as a brittle memory pricked his brain. He could still remember how the walls of Nox Manor were coated slick with red that dreadful night. Bodies had littered the manor, some of them so mangled they could only be described as lumps of meat, impossible to tell if they'd been human or animal. He'd thought the art of war had desensitized him from such things, but never in all his years had he witnessed anything so utterly terrible.

"Silence!" Albel snarled. "You, of all people, should know what it means to push me. That demon scum has no idea what _I'm_ capable of yet."

"Who dies this time, boy? The King? His new daughter? His wife? More of your men? Their families? Me? You know Romero has no boundaries to what he'll do. No limit to how far he can reach. He'll do anything he can to crush you, whether it be with a blade or with the countless lives you sacrifice to this silly play. Have you sunk so low to force others to feel the pain you've been subjected to?" Woltar shook his head, "You are a ruthless man. I've known that for many years. But I never thought of you as dishonorable until now, Albel. Your father would be ashamed."

Albel stiffened, his dark eyes flashing dangerously. "Don't try to bait me with talk of my father, you old rat. This has nothing to do with him."

Woltar shrugged. "But it has everything to do with Lady Kasia and Master Kaine." A visible shudder ran through the lithe warrior and Woltar knew he'd struck a sensitive nerve. The ground he tread on was dangerous and he knew he would have to choose his words with extreme care. He was at the core of Albel's sickness, where nothing was predictable and everything was deadly.

"They matter not," Albel snapped, "They never did."

Woltar gave him an incredulous look. "Oh? Is that so, boy? You certainly fooled me, especially the way you've carried on after they died. And here we thought the weight of their death's were heavy on your conscious! Were the years of madness you subjected us to just some twisted joke of yours? The King certainly won't be pleased to hear this, as he's been extremely patient with your silly whims."

"You know nothing. I said, this has nothing to do with them. Romero toys with me. No one toys with me and lives."

Woltar chuckled and held his hands out with a shrug. "Then explain this pointless suicide mission. Honestly, Albel, if Romero hadn't killed them, none of this would be happening. You can't expect me to believe that the loss of one battle of many has driven you to the brink of insanity. Romero may play with you, but it's you who torture yourself."

Albel bared his teeth in an ugly snarl. "You kid yourself if you think I'd die to redeem the honor of people who meant nothing to me."

Behind the wall, Nel strained to listen, her face scrunched into a frown. She had no idea who this Romero person was that stood in the path of Albel's wrath, but from Woltar's voice, he was a force to be reckoned with. That was a terrifying thought. What had he done to anger Albel so? She heard Woltar mention several unfamiliar names. Whoever they were, it seemed safe to assume Romero had killed them; and if she heard right, they'd been important to Albel. Then again, she may have understood wrong. Nothing, no one, was important to the "Wicked One". He was a lone wolf. A loose cannon married to battle and bloodshed.

However, the dead weren't important now. What troubled her was the resignation in the warrior's voice. He was angry, downright livid with Woltar, but behind his hateful words, there was an uncertainty that hadn't been there before. Since when did Albel Nox lack confidence in anything? His voice was missing the edge she was so used to hearing. It was dull beneath the sharpness, lacking that mischievous spark of life she'd come to know so well on their travels together. Abrasive and confidently arrogant was how she remembered him. Defeat, or even the possibility, was never foremost in his mind.

She had to stop him.

Her resolution startled her. She'd always thought a world without Albel the Wicked would be a better, safer place. Yet somehow she found herself irritated, even angry with him. How could he let his spirit become so weak? The warrior she knew always held victory in his grasp before he even tasted it. He endured his pain, tucking it away deep inside and using it as a strength instead of a crutch. Never would he speak so frankly of dying; that wasn't an option. His pride would never stand for such defeat, and if his enemies were strong, Albel became stronger. He lived to be mighty, to be proud, and though she despised many of his methods, Nel admitted Albel was an admirable warrior in his own right. Where had that man gone and who was this shell of a solider, crying about meaningless death, that stood in his place?

As much as she loathed his ruthlessness, she despised the thing he'd become even more. A coward. A defeatist. Disgust and anger curdled in her gut as leaned against the brick wall that spared her from Albel's view. How dare he throw away the very things they all worked so hard to preserve. How dare he be so arrogant to render their efforts meaningless.

Nel's brow folded into a determined line. From her position, she could see Woltar's back, his posture stiff with tension. She touched her runes absently. Albel was out of her field of vision, but by his voice, she could pin point his approximate location. If Woltar could somehow distract him enough, she might be able to hit him with a strong thunderspell. A really strong thunderspell. She didn't want to kill him, but she definitely wanted to make sure he'd stay down after she zapped him. With Albel, there was only one chance. If her spell failed to immobilize him, the swift warrior would cut her down in mere moments. His rage might make him careless, but she didn't doubt his ability to cleave her in two.

They were still talking, or rather, arguing. The old man was a smooth negotiator, his years of wisdom and intelligence aiding his skills, but the familiarity between himself and Albel made such tactics difficult. Albel wouldn't be talked down. Not this time. Nel could hear the Woltar speaking in a calm voice, but it was obvious he was poking at Albel, which was like jabbing a poisonous snake with a stick. Woltar was trying to make him angry, using Albel's twisted logic to push him over the edge and make his move.

It was working.

"Shut up! I grow tired of this drivel."

Woltar laughed again, letting the sarcasm flow freely. "Then if not to redeem the honor of Lady Kasia and Master Kaine, then perhaps your own? You couldn't protect them, as you were sworn to do. They died horrible deaths at the hands of Romero because he was too much for you. You brought tragedy down upon your own family, yet you could do nothing to stop it. They died because you were weak. Am I right?" Woltar knew he'd gone too far, but it was necessary. Albel had little patience, but he wasn't an idiot. He'd been schooled in the art of negotiation and war tactics by Woltar himself and Glou Nox. This game could go on for hours if one of them didn't up the ante, and Woltar had just bet the pot.

At first, Albel only stared and blinked at him, but slowly, the black coat of rage swallowed his features in a frightening countenance. "You over step yourself, you old bastard," Albel growled.

"Do I?" Woltar went on, holding his ground. "I only stated the truth. You were weak then, and you're even weaker now. If anything, you've not only shamed your family and name once, but twice over with this pathetic show cowardice. I swear, Albel, couldn't you come up with a better excuse to kill yourself? Have a little pride, boy."

That was the nudge Woltar was looking for, and Nel knew it was her cue. Albel would never stand by and let someone call him a coward. Many names he would tolerate, but not that one. She braced herself and waited.

It didn't take long. Seconds actually. Albel drew in a sharp breath, as if kicked. "I've had enough of you," he snarled and the Crimson Scourge sang from its sheath once again.

His heavy boots took several steps forward as he prepared to attack, but a movement behind Woltar caught his eye. His feet faltered to a stop and his eyes widened in surprise. "Nel Zelpher," he whispered, and then glanced at the blue crackle consuming her hands, "You've got to be kidding me."

Nel forced a tight smile. "The one and only," she replied, then let the spell fly from her hands.

The bright magic caught Albel square in the chest. He'd been so startled by her appearance that he had no time to move or counter. The hesitation gave her the time she needed to target and charge. Lightening engulfed his body in static streaks. He growled in pain between clenched teeth, his eyes rolling back into his head. For a moment, Nel was worried it wouldn't be enough and she went for one of her blades, but a surge of electricity bowed his back and dropped him into the dust with a strangled cry. He lay there, twitching and smoldering, for several moments, until finally the spell faded and he lay still.

No one moved. All eyes stared at the smoking body of the unconscious captain, as if waiting for him to climb up from the dirt and murder them all. Only after several minutes, and it was obvious Albel was down, several hesitant soldiers went to his side. At Woltar's order, they bound him with heavy shackles and confiscated his weapons. A large soldier stepped forward and picked the waifish captain up, slinging him ungraciously over his shoulder.

Nel moved next to Woltar and watched with mild concern. She was shaking a bit, the adrenaline still beating through her veins. "What will you do to him?" she asked, hugging her arms to her body.

Woltar glanced at her, a sad smile on his lips. "We'll put him to bed, with a sedative to calm him, of course. He'll be confined to his quarters so he can have some time to think."

Nel looked at Woltar in surprise. "That's it? He'll just sleep it off?"

Woltar chuckled. "Oh, he'll be right angry when he wakes up. Absolutely murderous, no doubt. Hence the need for a sedative."

Nel shivered. "That's comforting."

Woltar turned and began shuffling back to the mansion. "Thank you, Lady Nel. I owe you a great debt today, as does Albel," he replied, "Today you saved his life, but I fear he's reached the end of his sanity. I'm afraid, I may have to ask you to grant me one more favor."

Nel cocked her head and arched a brow. "I'm sorry, Lord Woltar, but I have my mission..."

Woltar waved her quiet. "Yes, I know. That's what I wish to discuss. Let us go back to my office and wait for Albel to awaken."

* * *

Okay, that's it for this chapter. I don't know how many times I re-wrote this (at least six)...it still doesn't sit right with me for some reason, but we'll just have to live with it. I've purposely left some issues vague. They'll be cleared up later...which is difficult for me to do, since I have a tendency to lay everything out in the first few chapters...a bad habit...There hasn't been much of Albel's perspective either, but that'll come soon too. Also, I don't claim to know much about Romero...so I'm just going to say it now, I'm gonna make up a lot of stuff, but I'll do my best to do a good job. ;-P As to why I chose to do an Albel and Nel pairing...I like the two characters, and in my twisted little brain, I felt if they were given the right circumstances, perhaps something between them would happen (but don't expect any mushy mushy romance here!)...besides, I can't stand Sophia, and the other girls didn't have much in common with Albel...


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

By:Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create

a silly fan story. I have no money either

_Firstly, thank you to OneOfTwo for drawing that amazingly beautiful picture of Kasia and Kaine! Incredible! I think I'm even more amazed I managed to inspire someone so. Oh, I apologize for formatting errors in advance...I seem to be having issues with them. I'll fix any I find ASAP. To everyone else who has made it this far reading. Thank you. I wish everyone the happiest of holidays! Take care!_

"I wish for Albel to accompany you."

Nel stared at the old solider. His words were completely unexpected and certainly not plausible. Not after what she had just witnessed. "That's impossible," she stated, waving a hand in negation, "he would be more of a liability to me than an asset. I see that now."

"Albel has always been a bit of a liability." Woltar tried to make it a joke, but the words just came out tired and sullen.

"You know what I mean," Nel countered, not missing the irony, but instead, not finding it very amusing at the moment. She'd come to Kirlsa, hoping to gain the aide of a powerful and competent ally. Despite their past differences, she knew Albel would get the task completed. Hell, she'd even begrudgingly admit that she trusted him on some twisted level. However, the man she saw today was not the man she sought. He was something totally different. Perhaps even more frightening than he'd ever been in the past.

Woltar sighed, looking away from Nel's doubtful face. He laid his hands neatly on the oak desk and laced his withered fingers together. "I will admit, I can't vouch for Albel's predictability, though it pains me to say so. None of us these days is certain what goes on inside his head. However, I do believe that accompanying you on this mission may be the key to provoking his recovery." He gave her a hopeful look.

"Recovery?" Nel shook her head. He made it sound like Albel was ill. He certainly hadn't looked sickly to her, but then again, most of the events of that morning were a mere blur to her. She hadn't gotten a good look at the tall warrior before she'd laid him out with that spell. Yet, not all sickness was of the body. The mind could grow ill as well. Had Albel finally gone insane? It wouldn't surprise her, really. She'd always questioned what went on upstairs when it came to him. Still, he hadn't sounded mad, just incredibly angry and utterly defeated. "What is exactly wrong with the Captain," she asked cautiously.

Woltar hesitated. He'd hoped she wouldn't ask many questions, but it was a false hope, he knew. Nel Zelpher wasn't so reckless as to agree to let an unpredictable wild card have her back in an important mission. He couldn't fault her for that. In fact, he almost praised her, but then thought better of it. His aim was for her to take Albel to Greeton, not scare her away from the idea entirely. He sighed, his face full of lines, and motioned for her to take a seat. When Nel just looked at him, he waved at her impatiently, "You might as well, this story is a bit lengthy."

Nel's curiosity moved her to the chair and she crossed her legs, frowning at Woltar. Time was not on their side, and Fayt was waiting.

"Shortly after the incident with Luther," the old man began, "we discovered a mass of catacombs beneath Airyglyph. We sent troops, and they never returned. Albel went to investigate, and discovered a horde of demons living there. He and their master, a monstrous being named Romero, clashed many times over the years, neither ever coming close to being defeated. Nearly three years ago, Nox manor was razed to the ground by this very horde. It was a massacre...everyone except Albel was killed, including his wife and infant son. Romero dispatched of them personally, while Albel was incapacitated. He watched them die...No, be tortured and butchered...while he was helpless to protect them." Woltar cleared his throat and stared at a knot in the oak of his desk. "Since that day, Sir Albel has changed, as you saw. He is determined to have his revenge...in his mind and memories...but not in his heart."

Nel was to astounded to speak. She stared at Woltar, weighing the truth of his story. It was almost too outrageous to believe. Demons? Albel married? A father? It was all so absurd. "That's a sad story," she started, "but you mean to tell me that Albel the Wicked, is mad with grief because a pack of ghouls killed his woman and child? You do know how ridiculous that sounds, don't you?"

Woltar's dark eyes hardened and he glared over his long nose at Nel. "You call me a lair, Miss Zelpher? What part is so difficult to believe? I would expect that you, of all people, would understand that there are some things in this world that we just cannot explain."

Nel leaned back in her chair. He had her there. Perhaps there were miles and miles of catacombs beneath Airyglyph. Maybe demons lived there. She's seen stranger things.

But...

She shook her head. "I cannot imagine Albel grieving...over anyone. Not to mention being married and a father."

Woltar's face eased somewhat. "Ah, I see, " he replied, "You, like so many others, see just the monster Albel is and forget that he is merely a human being like the rest of us. Strip him of his weapons, take away his status, etch away his skills, Miss Zelpher, and all you have left is a man. A simple man, naked to the very emotions all humans possess."

Nel started to object, but Woltar waved her quiet.

"But in some aspect, you are correct. Albel's trouble isn't from grieving, but the lack there of."

Confused, Nel frowned. "What?"

"He feels the pain of loss, but it is the guilt that tears at him. The guilt that he couldn't help them. That he couldn't protect them as he was sworn to do. His insufferable pride...his narcissism, has confused this feeling, turning it into a burning rage that centers around his defeat. The sad reality is, he hates himself for being weak, for succumbing to his pride and putting those he was to protect into the line of danger. He blames himself, yet he doesn't even know it. In turn, his blindness doesn't allow him to lick the wounds upon his heart. Instead, they fester and swell, spreading the infection through his soul." Woltar shook his head and gave a weak shrug as if to say he wasn't sure what to do.

A profound pity settled itself deep inside Nel's heart. It made her uncomfortable, hearing Albel's darkest secrets. It was as if she'd stepped into a forbidden place and would be punished if found. "So," she replied hastily, trying to find a safer subject of discussion, "How did he come to be married?"

"It was an arranged marriage, an agreement made between the King and his father when Albel was but a child."

Nel gave an uncomfortable chuckle. "I thought he hated arranged marriages?"

Woltar shrugged and then smiled slightly. "Despite rumor, Albel is a man of honor. It was his duty to fulfill the contract made by his father, and he did it with little complaint. I do suspect though, that little bit of peace was because it was his father's wish. It helped as well that he knew his betrothed from childhood."

"So they were...friends?" Nel asked, not hiding her surprise.

Woltar chucked then, his smile a bit wider, but still sad around the edges. "Of sorts, I suppose. Glou Nox was friends with Kasia's father, the Kings cousin. When Albel would visit here as a boy, he'd spend hours pulling the young lady's braids, stomping on her dolls... He was always making her cry for some reason or another."

Nel gave Woltar a look and cringed inwardly. The poor girl. Married off to the courtyard bully. She had to have been miserable at her parents for making her live a nightmare like that. "I hope Albel stopped tormenting her after they were married," she muttered.

Woltar pursed his lips, obviously offended. "Albel is many things, but an abuser of women, he's not."

Nel almost argued, recalling the brutal treatment of her subordinates at the hands of Albel. They'd been women, but they'd also been soldiers. There was no discrimination when it came to war. Those who took up arms as soldiers, regardless of gender, were rightfully treated of as soldiers. It was the honorable thing to do. She couldn't fault Albel for treating her army like enemies just because they were female.

"Lady Kasia was quite pleased with Albel," Woltar continued, "She was well provided for, protected, and blessed with a son. Her stature couldn't have been better."

"A loveless marriage of convenience," Nel scoffed. She hated the custom of marrying off young girls to the highest bidder. It was no better than slavery and women were nothing but cattle for auction. It disgusted her. It disgusted her even more that so many women just excepted it as part of their fate. No doubt, Albel's wife had been one of those willing sheep, doing her duty to her family and kingdom.

Woltar raised his brows at her vehement reply. "And what is love, Miss Zelpher?" he asked. "Surely you do not presume that your definition of the word should be everyone else's definition?"

Nel could only shrug. She'd never been in love. She hadn't really thought about it much either. She was hardly an authority to lecture the subject. "I don't presume anything, but I imagine there's a bit of feeling involved in the process."

"Indeed," Woltar replied, "but love can be many feelings. The desire for comfort and security. The need to protect and provide. Not all love is flowers and poetry. Quite the contrary."

"Are you insinuating that Albel..."

Woltar laughed at the incredulous look on Nel's face. "Not in the sense you are thinking, young lady, but in his own way... perhaps, yes. As I said, not all love is about romance and niceties. Some people take a more practical approach of need and necessity. It's no different. The sad thing, in Albel's case, is he never even realized it himself. Not even after the passing of Lady Kasia and Master Kaine."

Woltar paused, his smile fading from his lips once again. "He blames himself for their deaths. He hides his hatred of himself behind a shield of selfish vengeance and indifference. His guilt eats at him like a disease...We thought he would cope and move on..."

"Like he did with his father," Nel finished. She knew Albel held himself responsible for his father's death. That tragic accident shaped him into the cold, ruthless man he was when she first met him. In many ways, the events were similar, as if history was repeating itself again. She couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him. No one should have to suffer such atrocities twice in their lifetime. Not even Albel the Wicked.

Woltar nodded. "Yes, but it appears that twice the tragedy is too much for even the likes of Albel. A man can only bear so much pain until he breaks. Albel is no different. To tell you the truth, he's actually quite sensitive. I'm surprised he made it through the death of his father. We expected him to be worse than what he turned out to be..."

Nel arched her brows. Worse? She wasn't sure if she should be relieved or worried. However, Woltar's story touched her somehow and she knew the old man wasn't lying. Albel needed help. She didn't like him much, but he was a former comrade. He willingly gone to give his life for their worlds...no their entire universe...just as Fayt had done. What kind of person would she be if she chose one over the other?

"How will accompanying me be of any help?" she asked, her tone firm.

The elderly Captain's face lifted, the lines of his weathered face lessening somewhat. "I believe it was his travels with you and the other's that helped him see through darkness he'd wrapped about himself. He was able to conquer the sword by understanding himself. That alone, spoke volumes to the King and I. Albel had finally become the man we knew he could be. It was all due to Master Fayt and the others. But since the death of the Lady and young Lord...Perhaps, if he were to travel with you once more, he might remember himself."

Nel remained skeptical. This mission would be nothing like the trials that Luther pitted against them. All of them had come away, learning a bit about themselves and life, but at that time, the stakes were higher and there was more to lose. A simple rescue mission wasn't the answer to saving a man drowning in grief. Then again, who was she to say it wouldn't? Woltar seemed desperate. She was his last hope. Admittedly, she was disgusted with the creature Albel had become. A ghost of a man. A shell of a warrior. Whether she liked it or not, she'd already started down the road to aiding Woltar. She was already involved.

She sighed and closed her eyes. "How do you know he'll agree to come with me?"

A true smile erupted from Woltars face. "Oh, he'll agree. I plan on offering him a proposition he can't refuse."

"Proposition?" Nel wasn't sure if she liked the sound of that, nor did she care of the gleam in Woltar's eye.

_I wasn't going to do this chapter, but instead jump right to Albel, but I thought some things needed explaining first. Too much stuff was up in the air. Now that it's out of the way, I can move on and not fret over it so much. Next chapter is based around Albel and Woltar's "proposition". He's going to be all sorts of happy...heh... This story is turning out to be darker than I wanted, but I can hopefully lighten it up a tad (not totally) once they begin the mission. Like I said, I tend to write long stories, nor do I do anything "fast". Rushing things just makes a mess...Thanks again!_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

By:Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create

a silly fan story. I have no money either

1/20/05

Albel was sleeping. He knew he was, but it was that between sleep, the kind where awareness mingled with dreams and he could not wake himself. His body felt heavy, like lead, and in some fuzzy part of his brain, he knew he hurt all over. The cool sheets against his skin made him ache and his heart fluttered in his chest like a frightened bird. His shallow breaths burned and even his scalp hurt.

What had happened to him?

"You were acting the fool," a voice whispered in his head. "Always so childish. Always so rash...So incompetent."

"Shut up," Albel growled.

Laughter flowed around him, soft and caressing. "Shut up, shut up, shut up," it chanted. "Is that all you can say? Silly boy! You can't hide in silence. You can't run from me forever."

"I run from no one!"

"You run from everything. From yourself. From what you are..."

"Oh? And what is that?" Albel snapped.

Laughter again, followed by a cold chill in his bones. "Why, an angel of death, of course! A monster who destroys all it touches. A devil of unhappiness and catastrophe. It is what you were born to be."

"What?" His own voice was but a shudder. The scent of blood and death stalked him like a predator, light and barely noticeable.

"A devil. A minion of Hell in man's flesh...a black crow on the wings of death. All you touch decays and dies." The smell of rotting meat bloomed in the air like a putrid flower. Images of the dead danced in Albel's head. Men he'd killed, blood he'd spilled, carnage he'd caused, all flickered though his memory like a picture book. He gagged, his eyes squeezing painfully tight, trying to close his senses.

"Be silent!" He lashed out with his voice, struggling to drive himself against the blackness, desperate to awaken and be free of the nightmare. A wave of panic washed over him when his consciousness refused to be roused, a dense fog settled itself around his dream, shrouding him from any light. A touch of dark fingers lingered against his temple, caressing him in an almost loving, gentle touch. Albel snarled, rearing up, his body arching against his pallet. "Let me go!" He bared his teeth as the fingers tore away, ripping from his brain like a barbed stinger.

"Albel."

Another voice. A new one. It was shouting at him, calling his name. There was something familiar, something that stimulated a strange sense of reassurance. He knew this voice. He'd known it for so long, ever since he could remember. He didn't entirely trust it, but it didn't frighten him. He reached for it, like a lifeline, trying to drag himself away from the terror that thought to consume him.

"You'll kill them too..." The effeminate voice whispered, giggling slightly in his ear. "You'll see them all dead...every last one of them. It's what you do best...Death Bringer..."

"SHUT....UP! I SAID SHUT UP!" Albel roared to life, his battered body leaving the bed in a mighty push. Light exploded before his eyes as they ripped open and he was momentarily blinded. It didn't matter. He didn't care. His arm was wrenched back in a blow meant to kill, poised to tear flesh and crush bone with steel talons.

But something was wrong.

Albel blinked against the light, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. Cool air licked his naked skin, raising the flesh to goosey pimples. He looked down, his dark eyes widening. His gauntlet was missing. From the elbow down there was nothing. No steel claws, no familiar weight pulling at his shoulder. Nothing. He blinked again, then frowned, too befuddled to be frightened.

"Nice to see you're awake and as lively as ever," a voice chuckled from the corner.

Albel's head swung to the sound, his skull unbelievably heavy, and for a moment, he thought he would tip over. His vision was fuzzy and the light was too bright, but he recognized the unmistakable shape of Woltar standing by the door. The frown deepened to a scowl, more so because he couldn't see well, but the cheerful tone of the old man's voice irritated him none the less. He tried to talk, but his mouth felt like it was full of cotton and his tongue was thick and heavy. He worked at it a minute, having to think carefully to form the words. "What...the hell...is going on?"

Woltar shuffled inside, a small smile teasing the corners of his lips. He kept his hands carefully behind his back, trying to be as unobtrusive and nonthreatening as possible. Albel was still sedated, and his weapons were confiscated, but that in no way meant he wasn't dangerous. He'd seen a younger version of the man before him break a soldier's neck with one hand and a fractured skull. Even then, Albel had made it look effortless. He didn't think his friend's son would harm him, but no one had pushed the level of agitation to the extreme that Woltar had just witnessed. He stopped just out of reach, peering down beneath his wrinkled eyes. "You seemed to be quite irritated earlier, so for your safety and our own, we gave you something to relax and took the liberty of removing all your weapons." He smiled innocently as he said it, but he was watchful and cautious.

Albel stared at him, his mouth a harsh slash of unhappiness across his face. Relax? Was the old man daft? Nothing they could give him could make him relax. He wasn't safe anywhere, not even in his sleep. Terror stalked him. It toyed with him. It even managed to frighten him, and for that, he felt ashamed. He was suppose to be fearless, undaunted by anything. Fear was a very real emotion, he'd known it all his life, but had spent all his waking moments killing the things that frightened him instead of running from them. He'd managed to turn his fear into rage and bloodlust. What better way to live unafraid than destroy the things that terrified him? Yet this new fear was more real, more pure, and it chilled him to the very bone. How does one kill something that has no shape or form? The fact that he had no answer scared him.

Albel lobbed his head around to stare through the newly bordered slats on his window. As if that would stop him. He almost smiled, but his mouth didn't quite work yet. For a long while, he watched the shapes of soldiers standing guard beneath his window. He could tell what they were by the bleary colors of their uniforms and the glint of armor. There were six of them that he could see and probably even more that he couldn't. Soldiers, missing weapons, boarded windows, drugs...Woltar had taken the capture very seriously. What the hell had they given him anyway? His head felt like it would bounce off his neck and roll under the desk if he moved to quickly. Knowing Woltar's love for overkill, no doubt the old loon had made sure that the dose and drug they'd given him was enough to knock out a small dragon. Stupid, meddlesome old man, always bothering about other people's business.

As the drug slowly released him, the dull pain he'd felt in his sleep magnified and grew. It hurt to breathe, the skin on his chest and stomach stretched taught and tight against his muscles. A throbbing ache thrummed in his head, liked he'd drank to much mead the night before. He looked down at himself, his chin dipping to his chest in a wobbly, disjointed movement. It took careful concentration to move like a human being and not some weird marionette. Damn drugs. Damn Woltar. His eyes widened as he noticed the bandages taped across his flesh. They were everywhere. On his stomach, his chest, his arm and neck. He lifted the sheet pooled in his lap and gazed at his long, slender legs. Even they were burned, but not as badly as his torso. There were bandages on his back as well. He could feel the tape pinching his skin. His eyes slid sideways to glare at Woltar. The old man smiled sweetly in return.

"How do you feel," Woltar asked.

Albel thought about it a moment, moving his jaw experimentally. When he decided he could speak with near fluidity, his brow creased in a heavy line between his eyes. "How do you think?" he replied. The glaring migraine sparked to life and the young warrior winced. "What...did you give me? What...happened? I want my arm back...now."

Woltar smiled, hiding his relief. The sedative was slowly working it's way out of Albel's system, but it would be several more hours before he could move freely again. It was a powerful drug, used most often for surgical procedures in veterinary situations. Seeing the defiant spark of Albel's personality was all he needed to know that the medication hadn't damaged the brain. It had been a concern, but there were few options at the time. Not that Albel would ever know.

Woltar sat down on the bed. "You don't remember any of it?" he asked carefully. It was an important question. Albel's irrational behavior had always been something he'd driven himself to doing. A product of too much thinking and too much rage. Never before had he denied or forgotten any events that surrounded his madness, but this time, he seemed confused.

Albel started to shake his head no, but he stopped suddenly. His memory was a bit fuzzy, and the images were jumbled, but he did remember. "I was going to Airyglyph, to tear that bastard Romero to pieces..." His thought process shut down, cutting him off. He leaned back against the headboard, hissing when some tape caught on the sheets and peeled away from his skin. He closed his eyes and forced his lips into a tight line. Something was missing. Something important. It was like a hole in his memory. A big, black, gaping hole.

"Is that all?" Woltar asked.

"...you interfered with my plans," Albel continued, his voice bitter, but pained. He was getting tired again, but there was no way in hell he planned on going back to sleep. All he needed was a bit of rest. Just to shut his eyes would be enough. Suddenly, it hit him and his eyes flew open. He sat forward far too quickly and his drugged, battered body retracted in pain. "Where is she?" Albel snapped, ignoring the hurt thrumming through him. "Where the hell is she?"

Woltar leapt up and away, pulling himself just out of Albel's reach. "Who? What are you talking about?" he asked, staring into the hostile, angry gaze.

Albel's scowl deepened until several lines appeared across his forehead and around his eyes. "That Aquarian she-maggot! That wench who used her magic on me! Nel Zelpher!" Oh yes. He remembered now. It wasn't a clear recollection, but her face smiling back at him just before he was hit with a thunderspell loomed in his mind. No doubt about it. It was her...and she'd dropped him like a cooked goose with one measly shot. Unbelievable, unacceptable, and humiliating. Albel gnashed his teeth together until they ached and clenched his fist against the sheets of his bed, simmering in a stew of humility and fury.

Woltar released a breath and moved back to the bedside. "Now, now," he soothed, "Lady Nel isn't at fault. I asked her to aide me, so it's not her you should be angry with."

"Like hell," Albel growled. "She tried to kill me." Angry didn't quite cover what he was feeling at the moment. He expected trickery and meddling from the likes of Woltar. The deviousness of the old man's planning never really surprised him. Nel, on the other hand, was always a rather predictable adversary, bound tight by her moral conscious and self righteousness. Oh, she could be cunning and sneaky, just like any other woman, but in battle, she faced her enemies as a warrior should, unflinching and without fear. Now she was jumping from behind rocks and practicing dirty...no cowardly, espionage tricks. She'd changed the rules. She'd caught him off guard. She cheated.

That pissed him off.

What the hell was she doing in Kirlsa anyway? He hadn't seen her in years, not since the ordeal with Luther. Everyone had gone off to travel their own paths, to live their own lives. He hadn't given much thought to his former comrades whereabouts or well being. There were no ties between himself and them. They'd never been friends, just people who banded together to fight a common enemy. Comrades of convenience. The journey they'd traveled was epic, but it was in the past, just a memory in the back of his mind and there was no need to keep those allies close to him.

Woltar sat down next to Albel, the bed creaking with the extra weight. He watched a glimmer of the old Albel peer through the mask of grief and bitterness. The younger warrior's face was tight with anger, but it was a pure and true anger, not some twisted dementia that held no form or function. The sienna eyes danced with ire, the dullness chased away for a moment, and life breathed itself back into the youthful face. Woltar didn't want to hope, but seeing Albel's attention diverted from his quest of self destruction, even if it was only a fleeting thing, gave his plan meaning. It wouldn't be easy. It might even be an impossible task that ended in failure, but for Glou's sake, as well as Albel's, he had to try. That spark was enough to justify his actions.

Albel was still fuming and Woltar forced himself not to smile at the other man's bruised ego. Defeat didn't suit Albel. If he only knew how defeated he was, how truly defeated, his pride might be enough to stop his crusade of vengeance. Then again, pride was part of the problem, and only a large dose of humbleness would defeat it. Fixing Albel wouldn't be easy. He was a knot of endless conundrums, everything intertwined and twisted together in one mindless, formless mass. It would be like trying to unravel a rat's nest, but Woltar was willing to try.

"I'm sure Lady Nel wasn't trying to kill you," Woltar replied. "She was acting under my request, so blame me if you must be angry about it."

The spark in Albel's face began to fade, the old hardness filling the lines of his face like mortar. "You should mind your own business, old man. What I do has nothing to do with you. My patience isn't limitless."

"Nor is mine," Woltar countered, "and you've just about used up all the good graciousness I can spare."

"Then give it up."

Woltar's eyes grew hard and he fixed Albel in a cold gaze. "Unfortunately for you, boy, your father made you my business. And I take my business very seriously."

Albel sat very still, watching his father's oldest friend with a careful regard. Woltar was old, but he was a dangerous man, not someone to be trifled with. He was a master tactician and ambitious enough to get what he wanted by any means necessary. His rules were few and far between, and his allies were numerous. Woltar walked a very fine line along the code of honor.

He didn't fear the old man like so many others did, but he was cautious about him. He'd known Woltar all his life, played in his manor as a boy, ate supper at his table, got paddled with his scabbard, yet even with that familial closeness, even Albel wasn't certain of his limits. There was a look in the Storm Brigade captain's eye, something cold and deadly. It wasn't the look of a warrior, but a shadow behind it, as if a piece of his soul was missing. That shadow said he would, and could, do horrible, unthinkable things if pressed.

Albel looked away, huffing a snort through his nose. Trading threats with Woltar was a bad idea, and Albel was no fool. "What are you up to now?" he grumbled, submitting for the moment. "Why was Nel Zelpher here in Kirlsa?" He'd be angry if Woltar brought his former enemy/comrade into one of his devious devices. Glyphian issues should stay within the Glyphian circle, especially when it came to those of noble blood.

"Is, in Kirlsa, you mean," Woltar corrected. "Miss Zelpher is resting in one of the guest rooms for the moment." He made a sweeping gesture in the general direction of the guest quarters with a wrinkled hand.

"She's still here?" Albel asked, glancing down at a burned arm and feeling his blood pressure rise.

"Yes, she is. She was quite adamant about waiting for you to wake up, so I offered her a place to say for the time being." Woltar smiled, showing a hint of his yellowing teeth.

"Is that so?" Albel remarked, arching a brow in suspicion. He didn't like the look of that toothy grin. Either the old loon was lying or he was about to do something Albel would really hate. "Just spit it out already," he finally snapped, laying back against the headboard. He was tired. He was hurt. He was angry in more ways than he could possibly begin to count. Nothing seemed to be going his way today, and it would suit him just fine if it all came to an end.

"So you're willing to listen?" Woltar asked.

Albel glared at him, his lips pressed thin.

Woltar chuckled and held up both hands as if he could ward off the dark glower. "Well, now that I have your full attention, young Nox, I'll tell you that Miss Zelpher came here at the request of her Queen. Her majesty seems to believe that you might be of some usefulness in an urgent matter."

Albel frowned, not out of anger, but curiosity. Bound by a treaty and living in peace, there was little love between the two countries. War had torn a rift between the people and mending it would be a slow and tedious process. Occasionally, and emissary of goodwill would appear at court, but it was more out of formality than friendliness. "She seeks assistance? Why for? I have no interest in matters that concern those Aquarian swine."

Woltar shook his head and frowned at Albel. "Curb your tongue, Albel. This isn't a matter important to just Aquarians. Miss Zelpher has been ordered to Greeton to..."

"Greeton?"

Woltar gave the young solider a stern look and Albel's mouth closed with a snap. "Yes, Greeton. As I was saying, it appears Master Fayt has been taken hostage. Apparently the off-worlder's transport device malfunctioned and he was beamed into Greeton territory. The Queen sent a party to retrieve him, but they ran into hostilities and were forced to retreat. Miss Zelpher was charged with the duty to rescue Master Fayt, and the Queen felt you would be of much use on this mission."

Albel stared at Woltar for a long while, his face revealing nothing but a passive curiosity. Inside his head, however, his mind was working to grasp the startling information. Fayt captured? By Greeton none the less? No doubt they'd caught wind of his knowledge of technology, or worse, his deadly secret. Woltar was right. This matter wasn't just a concern for the Aquarians. It was a concern for all of Elicoor. If the Greetonites managed to gain advances in their already impressive arsenal of technological skills, the balance of the world would shift dramatically, and it was possible a new war would ensue. A war that neither Airyglyph or Aquios could win.

Not that he cared though. His own personal war was about to come to a climactic end, and he doubted he would live through it. He wouldn't die alone, however. No, Romero was going to pay for the years of taunting and foul play. The foul demon would learn what it meant to play cat and mouse with a lion. He would oust the lord of monsters as the coward he was, even if meant his life. His honor and pride cried out for vengeance, and it wouldn't be sated until his sword was slick with demon blood. Only then could they...no, he, rest in peace.

"Bah," Albel barked, catching Woltar off guard. "How ridiculous. That fool could get himself uncaught if he wasn't such a worm. Why should I waste my time saving a fool who refuses to save himself?" Fayt was not physically weak. He could use a sword as well as any seasoned warrior. He was a living entity of destruction, capable of blowing up planets if he wished it so. He could easily escape, if he'd only loosen the strings on his high and mighty ethics. Yet he valued the lives of others over his own well being. Albel never understood that. Self preservation was something all creatures were born with, including humans. There was no shame in keeping yourself alive at the cost of those who wished to harm you. Fayt's principles had always irritated him. How could someone be so strong in battle, yet so weak in the head? It was about time the younger man learned that war wasn't fought with niceties and goodness. Morality and humanity had no place on the battle field. Not if a warrior wanted to survive.

Albel closed his eyes and shifted uncomfortably under the sheets. "I'm not interested. Tell Zelpher to go grovel somewhere else."

Woltar regarded the other captain and sighed. "I thought you'd say as much."

"Then why waste my time? You know I have other things that need doing."

Woltar's face crumpled into deep fissures. He slammed a fist down on the small night table next to the bed. A candle clattered to the floor and rolled across the worn wood. Albel jumped, his eyes opening wide. Woltar's glare burned into him and the old man grimaced, almost a baring of teeth. "You listen well, boy," Woltar growled. "We're going to make a deal and this madness of yours is going to stop...One way or the other."

Albel held his body stiff and quiet. His heart pounded in his chest. Woltar's outburst had startled him, even scared him a little. He kept his face impassive, narrowing his eyes cautiously. He'd seen Woltar angry before, but nothing like this. Woltar was a quiet storm. His wrath came down like a tornado, manifesting out of sheer nothingness and disappearing before anyone could ask what had happened. He never shouted. He never reacted with outward violence. He enjoyed watching those who'd anger him squirm with anticipation.

"A deal?" Albel asked in a low voice.

"Yes. A deal." Woltar replied, pleased to see he had Albel's undivided attention. "You're going to accompany Miss Zelpher and retrieve Fayt. If you succeed and are still insistent on trudging to your doom, I'll deliver you to the gates of Hell myself. Do you understand me?"

Albel arched a thin brow and searched the old man's face. He found it hard to believe that Woltar would give up years of meddling so easily. He sensed a catch, or a trap. Which, he wasn't sure. "I don't need your permission to pursue personal affairs, old man," he replied.

Woltar stood swiftly and stepped to the end of the pallet. He gazed down at Albel, a small, unfriendly smile curling his lips. "Of course you don't," he stated, "but know this...No one would question my motives if I had you locked and shackled in the dungeon for the rest of your life. No one would speak on your behalf. No one would come to save you. You could rot alive and not even the King would bat an eye at my decision. But that would be too easy. I'm bound by oath to watch over you. How I do that is up to me. I'd keep you alive, stripped of your title, your weapons, your lands, with nothing but peasant food to fill your scrawny body. You would waste away your years a common prisoner, bound by chains, clothed in rags, honorless and without worth. Your life would become the nothing you're working so hard to create of it. You would die an old man in chains, your coffin bound with bars...then again, you could catch a disease and die early...if you were so lucky."

Albel looked at Woltar carefully, weighing his words. He had no doubt that the old coot would do it. No doubt in his mind at all. Threat of death would be too easy, a fact many people keen to torture didn't realize. Death was a way to be free, a way out. Stripping a man of his humanity, shredding his worth to less than the rats he slept with, with holding the essential necessities needed to remain human and sane. Those were things that broke even the strongest will. Albel had spent time in the dungeon. His stay there had been short, but he knew it wasn't a place he'd like to call home. Chained to a wall, barely able to move, unable to tend to the basic necessities in a discreet and unhumiliating manner, always hungry and cold, barely able to sleep. He'd learned a new respect for the prisoners that managed to live a couple of years in those conditions. It took guts to look another man in the eye after months of piss and worse running down your legs.

"I could just kill you," Albel grumbled, his gaze wandering to the boarded window.

Woltar smiled. "Then you better do it now. You won't get another chance."

They both knew the threat was empty. Only an amateur would announce their plans to the enemy while unable to execute them immediately.

"Only a warped old nut like you would call something like that a deal," Albel remarked.

Woltar shrugged. "Desperate times call for desperate measures, my boy," he chuckled.

"I'm not your boy and there would be nothing to be desperate about if you'd stop putting that dried prune you call a nose into by business."

Woltar grinned and moved to the door. "You might as well be...and I was talking about Master Fayt's situation, not yours."

Albel was still looking out the window, his back to the elderly solider. "Get out."

Woltar gave a small bow. The heavy door opened with a groan. "Fine. I'll go tell Miss Zelpher the news. Perhaps she'll even heal you. She was quite eager to leave." After a moment of heavy silence, Woltar stepped out and shut the door behind him, clicking the locks back into place.

Albel released the breath he'd been holding in an aggravated sigh. He couldn't kill the old man, but he could certainly wish him dead. Maybe he'd fall down the stairs on his way out? Regardless, he was now honor bound to uphold his end of the bargain. He'd be going to Greeton, with a woman he didn't even like, to rescue a man who was too stupid to save himself, and all the while, Romero would be planning his next act of trickery from his lair beneath Airyglyph.

* * *

_Hello and thanks for reading! Finally, a chapter with Albel. Yay! Betcha didn't think I'd ever get to it! laughs Well, I warned you. I do things slow. That includes updates. Several people have asked about anonymous reviews. I normally don't allow them, but since I've gotten so many requests (via e-mail and on the FF site), I've decided to reinstate them for the time being. However, I do not appreciate flamers, nor do I take their opinions seriously. Constructive criticism is always welcome, but be polite and tactful. If you lack the class to be polite, don't bother reviewing my story. So far, people have been very kind in pointing out mistakes and I appreciate that. Thank you. On another note, I've started chapter 6, but it's only in the first draft and not even finished yet. I'll rewrite it twice before I'm happy with it (that's the plan anyway), so expect it in a couple weeks. Take care everyone! :-)_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

By:Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create

a silly fan story. I have no money either

02/01/05

* * *

_Thanks to Rezuri for a wonderful review (do you beta? ha ha). I'd been thinking of editing chapter one, not quite liking the style of writing I used there compared to other chapters. I've gone ahead and made some changes, trying to "tone it down" a bit, you motivated me to get off my butt and do it. laughs As for the introduction of Kasia and Kaine so early, I've gone ahead and left it as is for now. Thanks for the suggestions and comments everyone!_

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_

Nel sat in the courtyard of Woltar's mansion watching several soldiers lead a dull green dragon from the depths of The Keep. It blinked in the sunlight, its eyes a opaque color of yellow. The large, leathery wings held flat to its back opened and stretched, revealing a paper thin skin several shades darker than its body.

One of the soldiers produced a high, gleaming black saddle with an impossible number of straps and buckles. The leather creaked and the metal clanked as the two men worked together to lift the tack onto the creatures withers. The dragon made a low, eerie chuffing sound from deep within its chest. The massive head bobbed up and down several times and one of the men gave the beast a hard slap on the neck. The dragon snorted, nostrils flaring, and suddenly swung its huge skull into the soldier's chest. He fell to the ground, landing on his back with a solid thump. His companion laughed and the affronted man glared at the beast, cursing loudly. The dragon promptly stepped on his foot, turning his swears into screams.

Nel smiled.

Her gaze wandered from the screaming man and cantankerous beast. She looked to the sky, noticing how the sun sat low in the horizon. It was late afternoon, far beyond the time she'd wanted to be on her way. She'd planned to be in Peterny before nightfall, but as it was now, it would be well after dark or into the morning if they didn't leave soon.

She'd yet to see Albel.

Leave it to him to make things difficult. Nel was still uncertain about the decision of taking him with her. It probably wasn't a good idea. Actually, she knew it wasn't a good idea, but she'd let her compassionate nature get in the way...yet again. The Albel she remembered from so long ago was difficult enough to get along with. Arrogant, self centered, obstinate, aggressive... Dealing with him was about as pleasant as rubbing her face in a nest of porcupine quills. With all his added emotional baggage he could only be worse, and that thought made her shudder.

She knew she should have said no to Woltar, but the old man was so damn persuasive. Albel was more of a liability now than he ever was before. What if he went on one of his tangents while they were on the mission? He could up and disappear, leaving her alone in hostile territory. Woltar assured her it was unlikely, but that meant nothing to Nel. Unlikely meant still possible.

So why didn't she decline the proposition? It wasn't because she and Albel were friends, that was for sure. She didn't even like the guy. Not many people did. His deeds, the ones that gave him the title "Wicked", made him a monster among men. Most would say that what had happened to him was justice, yet Nel couldn't bring herself to agree.

She knew the pain of losing a family member. With the loss of her father, she felt like she was losing a piece of herself, but never in her wildest dreams could she imagine watching him die, murdered before her eyes, unable to do a thing about it. Something like that would destroy a person. She wouldn't have survived it. Yet, Albel had lived through it twice, a profession to his strength, but even he wasn't left unbroken. No one, not even Albel the Wicked, deserved such agony.

Her opinion might have been different during the height of the war, but during the battle with Luther, she'd learned there was more to the man than just his name. Once, she'd thought him evil incarnate. He was indeed ruthless and cold, but underneath that harshness was a man who cherished his freedom, took pride in his honor, and held a deep seeded, if not warped, sense of righteousness. He was sensitive to his surroundings and was easily offended by things he didn't understand. Somehow, during that short time they spent together, he became more real and less of an icon.

What if Woltar was right? What if this mission was the key to opening Albel's eyes again?

Who was she to deny him the chance to be whole again? If she refused and Albel sped off to his doom, she'd always wonder if it was her decision that clenched his destiny. That was a responsibility she didn't care to carry.

Come what may, she'd agreed to help Woltar by taking Albel with her to Greeton. She was bound to her word. The two of them would have to find some common ground if they intended to survive and complete their mission.

So far, they were off to a rather poor start.

Albel had refused to let her heal him. Woltar assured her that there was a doctor on hand who would issue a healing draught or two to get the warrior up and going. She'd seen the doctor go into the mansion, carrying his box of medicines on his back. That was two hours ago, and there was still no sign of Albel.

What the hell was he doing? Healing potions didn't take long to take effect, ten, maybe fifteen minutes for the injuries he sustained. He couldn't be packing either. They were traveling with only the barest essentials for the time being. She planned to stock up on more supplies once the reached Greeton. Most likely, he was still angry at her for using magic on him and was purposely dawdling to be peevish. That was the level of pettiness that she expected from someone like him.

Nel stood up from her place on the steps and brushed her bottom. Now wasn't the time for immature and contrite games. Fayt's life was on the line and they needed to leave. Now. If he thought she wouldn't abandon him in Kirlsa, he was sadly mistaken. Adray was in Arias and had offered to come with her. She'd declined because he wasn't the most stealthy of warriors and this mission would require them to make as little noise as possible. If it came down to it though, he was better than nothing. Or perhaps not...

Nel turned to go back into the mansion. She'd tell Woltar that Albel had a half hour to show himself or their deal was off. She had her foot on the first step when she heard the green dragon bellow in anger. Startled, she turned, her hand instinctively going for her daggers. The last thing she wanted to tangle with at the moment was an angry dragon. Could it get any worse?

"What do you maggots think you're doing?" a gravelly voice shouted from the east wing of the courtyard. "Don't you worms know anything about dragons?"

Albel stood just outside a wooden doorway that lead to the east side of the soldier's quarters. He was dressed head to toe in black. He wore a long fitted jacked that buttoned at the waist by three silver buckles. The coat flared out at his navel, revealing pale skin under a mesh shirt. Suede pants hung low from his bony hips and disappeared into knee high boots that were held into place by a multitude of little straps and buckles. His toes and ankles were protected by silver steel, and his sword was tucked into its scabbard, held at his hip by the braided rope of his belt. His shoulder and wrist guards matched the glinting metal of his mechanical arm, the sun sparkling off his knife-like hand.

The bio-mechanical arm had actually changed somewhat. Gone was the large shoulder guard. It had been replaced by a smaller one, making his shoulder seem more narrow and natural. It could be easily hidden, especially underneath a long cloak. His throat was pale as well between the high lapels of this coat. He'd ridded himself of the iron collar too. He looked, almost normal, except for the contrasting brunette against wheat blonde that made up his hair.

Nel watched him move across the courtyard, his long legs carrying him at a graceful, yet menacing pace. Apris, only he could make walking look so artistically arrogant. It'd been a long time since she'd last seen him, and he hadn't changed much at all. His face was a little less boyish, those dark eyes of his a bit more narrow and his jaw not quite so soft. His clothes were still flashy, though she had to admit, she was shocked to see him in anything other than his brazen sarong and brash midriff. If it wasn't for his naturally growling voice and the wild ropes of hair, she might not had recognized him in a crowd.

Albel reached the blundering soldiers and yanked the lead from a pair of trembling hands. "And you call yourselves Airyglyph soldiers. Bah! Get out of my sight!" Every world dripped with sarcasm and he made a harsh gesture with his hand that sent the nervous men bolting for their quarters.

"Humph," he snorted, turning back to gaze at the dragon. A look passed over his face, something close to respectable dislike. He and the beast shared a long gaze, as if sizing each other up.

Nel waited in the shadow of the stairway. Albel didn't care much for dragons, if she remembered correctly. He'd lost part of an arm and his father to a colossal monster during his failed Accession ceremony. Burned to cinders they were, so his aversion with the creatures was founded. He'd ride them if he had to, but only if there was no other option. "I was born with legs for a reason," he used to tell Fayt, though no one was certain at the time if he was just being difficult or if he was truly nervous around the monsters.

The dragon dropped its head and the tightness left Albel's face. He led the lumbering creature to a steel hitching post and looped the reins loosely. The beast stood absolutely still as the tall man adjusted the saddle and worked the straps that held it in place. He only used one hand, keeping his claws away from the delicate pieces of leather and dull scales of the dragon's hide. His fingers moved deftly with practiced ease, but it looked awkward.

Nel suddenly realized for the first time that Albel was actually handicapped. His artificial arm was honed for battle and he used it with such skill and dexterity that most people forgot that it wasn't an actual part of him. The reality was that outside of violence, the mechanism was probably quite troublesome and Albel wasn't much different from anyone else missing a limb. Simple tasks, those that needed soft, flexible fingers, like lacing of boots, tying of hair, or even getting dressed for the day, most likely took him more time that the average person. His talons were meant to cut through steel and bone. Gentler tasks were beyond their means.

How did he manage? He wasn't the type of person to take help from others.

"Are you just going to stand around all day gawking?"

Nel jumped. She'd been staring, an incredibly rude thing to do. She almost apologized, but then remembered how irritated she was at him for making her wait. She moved from the stairway and stood a few feet beyond the pole, just out of the dragon's reach. Albel's sienna eyes slid to her as he reached beneath the dragon's belly to secure a girth. He gave her an unfriendly look and turned his attention back to the strap, his shaggy hair hiding his face from view.

"You look like the Grim Reaper," she said, looking over his all black attire.

Albel made a noise in his throat. "Better than looking like some cheap, tavern prowling harlot, I suppose," he remarked, not looking up.

Nel blinked at him. She suppose she deserved that. She'd started it. Slinging insults with Albel was like waging war. One had to strategize their attack or he'd cut them down in a matter of moments. A person had to admire such wit. Or dread it. Or just leave it the hell alone.

Still, she was no harlot and hardly dressed like one. The chauvinistic remark annoyed her. By Aquarian standards, she was clothed rather conservatively. She had on a midnight blue fitted jacket with white trim over a tightly bound body suit of leather. The sleeves were short, but long enough to hide her various runes and the neckline was modest, only showing a small amount of cleavage. She wore a long sarong, slit up the side to about the mid-thigh, also dark blue and white. Her boots were soft leather, incasing almost each leg just above the knee. Beneath her clothes she hid several daggers and a short sword.

She'd chosen her clothes carefully. There were very few humans inside Greeton and most of them were farmers or merchants. Waltzing into the country looking like warriors would be like waving a flag of aggression. They didn't need that kind of attention. Stealth would be their strongest ally. Apparently Albel had read her report, though he looked more like a noble than a simple working man. She wasn't going to argue with him about his attire. He'd made an effort, which said something.

Nel crossed her arms and looked peeved. "You're late," she said. "I hoped to be to Peterny by dusk, but by the looks of things, we'll be lucky to make it to Arias by nightfall."

Albel grunted as he gave the cinch one last pull. The dragon snorted and turned its massive head back to look at him. "Well, perhaps if you hadn't tried to kill me earlier today, I'd have been more prompt. So pardon me if I'm not moving as well as I normally do."

"I offered to heal you," Nel replied.

"No thanks. I've had about as much of your magic as I can bear today." He stood upright and turned to glare at her.

They continued to scowl at one another, the silence drawing between them. Finally Nel sighed and cast an exasperated look at the larger warrior. "Okay, so I got a bit carried away. You can't blame me though. You were out of your mind back there..." Nel clamped her mouth shut, her eyes widening a bit. Never good to point out to an insane man that he's nuts. Makes them testy.

Albel stared at her, an angry expression flowering on his face.

"Look," Nel said hastily. "I didn't..."

"A _BIT_ carried away?" Albel growled, his eyes narrowing and totally oblivious to her insult. "Is that what you call it? So, I suppose if I get _'carried away' _and lop off your head, it'll be just fine?" He was angry, his cheeks reddening and nose wrinkling in disgust.

Nel wasn't about to be intimidated. She shook her head and remained calm. "No, of course not," she said quickly. "Listen. I apologize. Honestly, I didn't expect to hurt you that badly." It was true. She was sorry she'd gotten herself into this mess. Oh, and she really hadn't intended on practically cooking him to death either. That was an...unfortunate...accident.

Albel looked at her skeptically. "Hn," he grumbled, leaning down with boneless grace to pick up a satchel Nel hadn't noticed. So he had packed. It wasn't necessary for him to bring anything else. Nel watched curiously as he attached the bag to the saddle. "You should keep your wits about you. Next time, you won't be so lucky." He glanced over his shoulder, his face unsmiling. "You don't wish to see what I'm capable of when I get carried away."

Nel gave him a dull stare. She hadn't asked for his help only to be threatened and bullied. "Oh, I think I've seen enough," she retorted. "It wasn't that impressive, seeing as it didn't take long to lay you out. I think I can handle myself." She smiled slightly at the flash of anger that crossed his face.

Albel's eyes narrowed, his lips pressed into a thin white line. "You got lucky, that's all," he growled at her. "It won't happen again."

Nel shrugged. "I hope not. It would be a shame for such a seasoned, resolute warrior such as yourself to be defeated by mere thoughtlessness."

The tall captain snorted and turned away, putting a foot into the stirrup. He hoisted himself over the dragon with artful ease and settled into the saddle. The beast shifted, sidling sideways under the weight of the slender commander. He stared down at her from his seat, an impatient look upon his face. Nel moved back. She had little experience with dragon kind and the large creatures made her cautious. Albel was supposed to feel the same way, but he mounted with such practiced aplomb, she wondered if he'd gotten over his aversion. "What are you doing?" she snapped at him, glaring at the smile that spread across his face.

Giving her a wry grin, he turned the creature to the right and extended a long arm. "You are in a hurry, are you not?" he said. "By dragon, we'll reach Peterny by nightfall." He crooked a finger at her, motioning for her to take his hand. When Nel hesitated, his grin spread to show a hint of teeth. "The Crimson Blade scared?" he asked derisively. "You've done this before."

Taking a dragon was indeed a brilliant solution to their time problem. She was ashamed she hadn't thought of it herself. Such an oversight for a superlative spy like herself was shameful. No doubt, Albel had concocted the plan himself, and no wonder he hadn't been concerned with time. Most likely, he'd let her sit and worry just to spite her. Such pettiness wasn't beneath him.

She stared up at him, her frown deepening as she glanced at his outstretched hand. Still, she had her reservations. The dragon was the least of her worries. The idea of being so close the Albel the Wicked made her skin crawl, but she supposed it was a small sacrifice to pay considering Fayt's life rested in both of their hands. Honestly though, under any other circumstances, she'd rather hug a yunati. "It's not the dragon that concerns me," she replied sourly.

Albel leaned back in the saddle, scooting until his back hit the large cantle. He patted the empty space in front of him and laughed at the look on Nel's face. "Come now. You're wasting precious time," he prodded, his strange reddish brown eyes gleaming. "I promise not to bite, though I can't say the same for him." He pointed at the toothy dragon with an exaggerated flare.

Glancing at the space Albel had cleared for her, Nel scowled. "Not there," she stated with a shake of her head.

The grin slipped from Albel's face, a frown furrowing his brow. "What, woman? You can't ride from behind. If you fell, catching you would be awkward, if not impossible."

The idea of plummeting to her doom wasn't very enticing, but neither was having Albel pressed against her backside. That suede he wore was tight and looked thin. A shiver coursed down Nel's spine. No thanks. She shook her head, "I'll take my chances with the dragon."

He stared at her a moment, his lips pursing as if to say something. Finally, he shook his head gave a gallic shrug. "Stubborn fool," he muttered, turning the dragon to he left and leaning over to hold out his hand to her again. "So be it. If you fall to your demise, I will not be responsible. Nor will I scrape your carcass off the rocks."

"No one is asking you to," Nel remarked. "I can take care of myself." She grabbed his wrist and felt his hand close all the way about her flesh. His fingers were long, like those of a harpist or pianist. He'd never touched her before. She glanced up at him and noticed a look of curiosity and skepticism on his gruff face. "What?" she asked a bit more harshly than she intended. Normally she wasn't so obviously agitated, but being around Albel got on her last nerve.

The man blinked at her and another unpleasant smile spread across his lips. "You must put your foot on mine if I am to pull you up," he sneered.

Nel did as she was told, thankful that not only were Albel's fingers long, but his legs were too. She'd never be able to mount a dragon on her own, though she wasn't a short woman herself.

"Grab the strap," Albel instructed, reaching behind him to jiggle a piece of worn leather. "When I pull, you use your leg and arm muscles to climb up. Got it?"

Nel nodded and wrapped her hand around the strap. She was ready.

Albel was far stronger than she anticipated. He gave a short jerk on her arm and she launched herself into the metal of his gauntlet, smashing her face in the process. Stunned, she reached out blindly, one hand locking onto the tender inner flesh of Albel's thigh and the other grasping a rope of bound hair. She pulled. He howled. The dragon, confused, circled and roared.

"Damn it, woman! What the hell are you doing?" Albel shouted. He grabbed a handful of jacket and dragged her across his lap, swearing under his breath at his sore scalp. Nel only laid there, dazed, the blood rushing to her head as she gazed with distorted vision at the ground below.

When the ringing stopped, she crooked her neck and looked at him from the corner or her eye. "Now what?"

Albel rubbed the back of his head and scowled. "I should make you ride that way to Peterny," he grumbled.

"I'd rather die."

"That can be arranged."

Nel started to move, irritated at the entire situation. "Just can the jokes and help me up," she snapped.

"Ouch," Albel yelped when her elbow came dangerously close to his crotch. "Who's joking, fool?" he snarled back, pushing her arm away and rubbing his stomach.

Nel sighed heavily. Perhaps this was a sign? They hadn't even left Kirlsa and already the trouble between them had festered into an angry boil. The mission didn't bode well at all. Abandoning the plan sounded pretty good, though it clearly wasn't feasible. They'd wasted too much time for her to come up with something else. The queen, Fayt, and Woltar were counting on her, but what good would it do if the two of them ended up killing each other on the journey? Apris help them...

* * *

They were flying through the air. The wind bit at Nel's face, her red hair whipping wildly. She donned a pair of riding goggles, but they were fogging up and she was too afraid to move her hands from the death grip she had on the gullet to clear them. Below, the ground raced by, the trees looking like small shrubs and the rivers like bands or blue ribbon. Never had she imagined a dragon could fly so high or so fast with two riders. It was excitingly terrifying. 

That wasn't all that was terrifying, however. Nel sat very still, as not to fall, but also because she could feel the steadily line of Albel behind her. His arms formed a sort of cage about her, one hand on the reins, the other resting lightly on the saddle next to hers. His thighs pinned her in place and kept her from slipping when the dragon adjusted for turbulence. Occasionally, his chin would bump against the back of her head, his height being just enough to keep her from disrupting his vision. His nearness made her tense and uncomfortable. It was like touching him made him seem more human and less idolistic. She kept telling herself it was only for a short while. Once the reached Peterny, soldiers from Kirlsa would take the dragon, giving them two lum instead to make the trek through Greeton. A dragon would be too obvious, a moving target for the likes of Greeton's technology. Getting shot out of the air by a mech corps solider would cut their mission incredibly short.

After he'd gotten her righted in the saddle, Albel refused to let her sit behind him. An argument ensued, but he'd won by selectively ignoring her and urging the dragon to take off. Not much she could do about his assertive, domineering persistence while in the air. Actually, once in the sky, she was a bit thankful for his insightfulness. He hadn't lied about the probability of falling, something she wanted to avoid at all cost.

The sun was but a half circle of light beyond the horizon. They'd reach the trading town soon, but not before night caught them. It didn't matter, they weren't that far behind schedule and Nel wasn't sure about Albel, but she was tired. The day had proved to be overwrought with excitement, more than she anticipated. Leave it to the Glyphians to make life arduous.

Albel hadn't said a word since they left Kirlsa. Conversation on a dragon was practically impossible, but she'd at least expected a few snide, contemptuous comments here and there. He'd been silent though, uttering not a word. It was hard to believe that only hours before he'd been raving like a mad man, crazed with bloodlust. He didn't seem like a lunatic. Since she'd first spoken to him, he'd only appeared to be his usual, impertinent self. There was a lack of ignoble spunk and a tightness around tired eyes, but nothing too out of the ordinary. It was odd. Nel had seen men tortured with insanity. Even in their more sane moments, those men were only fragments of their former selves. Albel was nothing like them. If anything, he seemed only haggard and weary.

Woltar's picture of a man insane with vengeance didn't fit Albel's portrait.

Grief was the cause of his madness, or so the old man had said, but Nel was skeptical, now that she'd had the opportunity to speak with Albel directly. Men stricken sick with grief were never rational, as grief was an emotion that never left a person's heart. It was always present. Always consistent. It was, or could be if a person let it, a feeling that was capable of burying a man's heart into blindness. To let his emotions run wild...Albel was stronger than that. Smarter.

Or so she'd assumed.

It wasn't any of her business, but her curiosity was piqued. The Wicked one had always been mysterious. A bit of an enigma. Common rules didn't necessarily apply to him, considering he seemed intent on operating outside any drawn lines. He was defiant and headstrong, seeing everything, including himself, as a challenge. Of course, that ultimately lead to his ability to make the simplest matters absurdly complex. Perhaps it was as Woltar said and Albel was once again working outside the means that applied only to a common man?

Peterny came into view as they soared over the final peak. The city was a shadow, the lights like bright stars against the rapidly approaching darkness. The dragon circled several times and Nel could see the vague shapes of residents and fellow travelers stop to look up. No one ran for cover, as they would have done years past. Airyglyph dragons were still not common in Aquaria, but they weren't so rare as to cause a panic in these days of peace.

Albel leaned forward and whispered into her ear, "Hang on."

Nel braced herself. Dragon landings weren't particularly frightening, but they weren't exactly smooth. Jarring better described them. The dragon would circle once and make a bobbing descent to the ground, but they were still high in the air and moving rather fast. Shouldn't they be a bit lower to land? Instinctively, Nel tightened her hold on the saddle.

Albel made a movement with his legs and the dragon practically fell out of the sky. Nel swallowed a scream, all her blood rushing to her head in a horrified surge. Her hands tightened around the gullet of the saddle until they bled white. Only when she was sure they'd crash into the ground and die, did the enormous wings flare outward, catching them in a drag and slowing them to a graceful glide. The creature touched down, taking a few running steps as momentum propelled its huge body and then stopped abruptly.

Two men came out of the shadows. One of them took hold of the reins and said something to Albel, but Nel couldn't hear him. Her heart was still drumming in her head and her hands refused to let go of the saddle. She'd ridden dragons before, but never, ever, had she experienced a landing like this one.

One of the men, an Airyglyph soldier, laughed as he looked at her. "That was quite a landing, Captain. It's been a long time since I've seen you ride like that. Have you been practicing again, sir?" They all knew how Albel felt about dragons, but before his accident, he'd been known for having a knack with the animals.

Albel leaned back against the high cantle and looked down his nose at the two men. "Fool. I don't need practice to do this," he said with a snort.

The other man laughed too and glanced at Nel. "Looks like you gave the lady quite a fright."

Albel swung out of the saddle and landed gracefully on the ground. He looked over his shoulder at Nel. "Doesn't surprise me," he growled. "Aquarians obviously lack the fortitude to endure true dragon flight."

He reached up and took Nel by the forearm, intending on helping her down. When she didn't budge, he stepped back and met her glare with one of his own. "Do you intend on sleeping up there?" he asked callously.

The two soldiers behind him laughed and Nel clenched her teeth. Were all Glyphian males such uncouth, pompous, brutes? Albel reached for her again, but she pushed his arm away, feeling a bit smug at the indignant expression he gave her. She swung her a leg over so she was sitting on the saddle sideways and then jumped off, saying a silent prayer of thanks when she didn't fall face first into the dirt.

"Whooo," Albel called, pretending to be impressed.

Nel shot him a look and turned on the chuckling soldiers. She didn't formally greet them or even ask who they were. "I expect those lum will be ready before dawn tomorrow," she stated. The two men stopped laughing and stared at her. They glanced at their captain, then back to the slim woman in front of them, as if unsure who they were supposed to answer to. Nel narrowed her eyes. "Before dawn," she said again, then turned for the gate, disappearing into the shadows.

The soldiers and Albel watched her go, then the two men turned to look at their captain with a expression of awe. Albel gave them a blank face and nodded once. "Do it," he said, then went off in the direction of his companion.

* * *

_This chapter seemed loooong...I don't know why...I've actually have four more chapters in their first draft written (I got started and couldn't quit), but I've decided to make some serious revisions to a couple of them. Nel is proving to be more difficult than Albel to write...I started playing the game again just so I can take some notes and study their personalities...This is my third time through...and I'm still noticing things I didn't the first two times! What a fun game! I'd love to see an anime of it, like they did with Star Ocean 2! Till next time!_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

By:Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create

a silly fan story. I have no money either

2/11/05

WHY did the transfer to ff . netnot load ANY question marks, comma's, or spaces? This chapter was ready awhile ago, but after the nightmarish fiasco of missing puncutation marks and the computer at work deleting my entire zip disk, with all my edits and corrections,I had to walk away for awhile...Anyway, I hope I managed to fix everything...if not, I apologize...If this upload goes screwy, I'll fix things as soon as I can!

* * *

"What do you mean you only have one room available?" Nel was trying hard not to shout at the poor, mousy little desk clerk. It'd been a bad day. She was tired, cranky, and in dire need of a bath and bed. It wasn't personal. She leaned forward, both hands flat against the polished counter top. "I reserved two rooms when I passed through here yesterday. What happened?" She smiled, or rather tried to, but by the way the young girl grimaced, she'd failed in her attempt to appear civil.

Miserably.

The small woman flipped through a large book, more out of nerves than necessity. She'd already looked at the ledger three times. "Ummm...Well, you see Lady Nel," she stammered, "You did reserve two rooms. The last doubles we had, actually. Today, two men from Kirlsa arrived shortly before you and said they were part of your party..."

Nel's eyes widened. "Oh no," she whispered. It had to be the two goons Woltar sent. She'd forgotten about them. They'd left immediately after she confirmed her agreement with Woltar. That had been in the morning, so no doubt they'd arrive in Peterny near nightfall by lum. She hadn't counted on them staying. Hell, she hadn't even expected the lum.

The girl eyed her warily. "Is that wrong, Lady Nel?" she asked in a tiny voice. "If they aren't part of your group, we will have them removed immediately."

Nel sighed and shook her head. "No, no. It's fine," she lied. "They just slipped my mind, that's all." It wasn't fine, but she could hardly kick them out of their room after they traveled all the way from Kirlsa. Even though Woltar had ordered it, the two men had done her a service by seeing the lum to Peterny. It would be pretty crass and ungracious to send them packing now.

The bell above the door chimed and Nel turned around. Albel sauntered into the lobby, looking very much a predator on the prowl. He had his burlap satchel thrown over his shoulder, katana at his hip, and his reddish eyes traveled the room in one long sweep. Two young girls tittered when his gaze lingered on them a moment, thinking that perhaps the warrior found them favorable in someway. Nel knew better. Albel was doing a body count, making sure everything was as it seemed. Everyone inside and out of his world was a potential enemy.

He curled his lip when saw her.

Funny, she felt the same way.

She really didn't want to share a room with him. It wasn't that he was male, she'd bunked with men before, but she'd at least trusted them not to knife her in the back. Not that Albel was into blind murder. No, if he ever decided to cut her open, he'd want to watch her squirm while he did it. That didn't make her feel much better. Not only that, Albel made her uncomfortable in ways she couldn't explain. She could never tell what he was thinking, nor did he offer to share. Sometimes, when he watched her, she felt like he was peeling aside all her carefully built shields and seeing things that she wanted no one to see. It was silly. He was psychotic, not psychic, but still, she'd rather share a room with a hungry chimera.

Albel closed in on her and stopped just short of the check in desk. He stared at her, as if waiting for something. "Well?" he said impatiently.

"We have a problem," she stated. Albel raised a brow. "The two soldiers Woltar sent took one of our rooms."

"So?"

Nel frowned. "So...it means we're short one room."

A puzzled look crossed Albel's face. "Did you do something stupid? Like reserving one double and a single?"

"No," Nel snapped. "I reserved two doubles. It was all they had..."

A line formed in Albel's brow. "Then what's the problem? There are four beds and four people." He held up held up four talons, counting at her like she was a child. They stared at each other for a long moment and then Albel cocked his head slightly. "Oooh...I get it," he remarked, a condescending smirk slipping across his lips. "Is it rooming with me that bothers you so much, or is it just men in general?"

Nel had to give him points for being quick. Albel was no dummy. She'd forgotten how smart he was under all that tightly wound aggression and testosterone. He wasn't just violence and muscle. He was intelligent violence and muscle. A scary combination.

She was too cranky to put up with his sarcasm. "If you must know, yes. It does bother me, but I don't want to bunk with two soldiers I don't know either. I thought you three could share a room."

Albel settled back on his hip, seeming to think about it, which made Nel instantly suspicious. After a moment, his expression turned dark. "Don't be selfish, woman. Why should one bed go unused because of your groundless, prudish reservations" Like a striking snake, his hand lashed out and snatched the key from her hand. "Ridiculous! Gimme that key!" Before she could protest, he stalked down the hall, his boots sounding like angry drums against the tiles, and disappeared around the corner.

Nel watched him go, her mouth agape. If she didn't know any better, she'd just received a scathing lecture from Albel the Wicked, and for once, he was right. She was being selfish. And silly.

Talk about a humbling experience...

* * *

Albel had tucked himself away at the end of the bar at The Biting Kid tavern. A tumbler of Sapodilla juice sat practically untouched next to an equally ignored plate of pasta salad. The bartender, a large, burly man, swept by with his dingy rag glancing at him only once. Albel ignored the big man and was left alone. Behind him, the noise of the bar was mediocre at best. A drunk stumbled up the step and fell to the floor. Weary travelers and ragtag ruffians talked and laughed amongst one another. Occasionally an argument would break out, but nothing worth noticing. A few played cards, others darts, but mostly everyone just ate, drank, and enjoyed the musty, yet comfortable atmosphere. 

A woman with a mound of auburn hair piled high on her head and enough make-up on her face to put war paint to shame sidled up to him. Her breasts bulged from a bright crimson bustier, practically spilling over the top. When she sat down, her short skirt slid up her thighs, and Albel knew in an instant she wasn't wearing any undergarments. She smiled at him with a mouth to large for her face and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "You look lonely."

"And you look disgusting," Albel replied.

The woman's thinly plucked brows nearly shot from her forehead and her ugly mouth opened into a stunned "o". She sputtered several times, her face breaking into a blotchy, red flush. Finally, she managed to appear outraged instead of embarrassed and scooted away from him. "I like my men with more _'meat'_ anyway," she spat, giving him a critical once over before turning on her heel and storming away.

"Hn. Fool," Abel muttered, taking his fork and making a nest out of his noodles. He had more than enough _'meat' _on him, but not that whore such as she would ever know. Women like that disgusted him, always groveling for attention, unable to stand on their own two feet, preening like peacocks when they were nothing more than common barnyard fowl.

Now that he thought about it, most women were like that. At least most of the women he'd known in his life. In Airyglyph, there were little expectations placed upon females. The peasant and middle classes might work, but noble women never did anything more breed children and gossip. They couldn't be trusted to do anything else. They were bred to be demure, agreeable, and foolish. Women didn't need to be strong the way men did. They weren't made for rougher things.

However...

Nel Zelpher defied all logic. She was definitely a woman, but she was more skilled with a blade and at the art of warfare than many of the soldiers Airyglyph employed into its ranks. Albel had come to accept that...on some level...begrudgingly. He could easily overwhelm her in a fair fight, but she would face him until the end, he had no doubts about that. He could even respect her for it, though it perterbed him to no end. She was a woman, not a man, and females weren't supposed to be powerful, dangerous, or brave.

Ka..._she_...certainly hadn't been.

She'd not been much different than the other nobles in Airyglyph, always attending court, meetings at the ladies convention, and other ridiculous functions high-bred women found important. Thankfully, she never asked him to attend with her, despite the urgings of the pretentious nags she chummed around with. No, his late wife had been a quiet woman, submissive and biddable in almost every fashion. She rarely nagged at him and had spent most of her waking hours weaving rugs or doing some confounded needle point in the sun room of their home. He often wondered how anyone could be so content while being so utterly useless.

It wasn't as if he ruled his house like a tyrant. He hadn't cared what she did with herself...much...yet she'd insisted on asking his permission in everything, even if it was taking a short trip with one of the servants to the market. What had she done while he was away? Sat in their home like a prisoner? Her passive nature had set his teeth on edge. More than once, he'd attempted to bait her into an argument, trying to draw out any spark of life inside her, but the result was always the same. She'd start crying and he'd leave the manor angry, feeling like a jackass for some reason he couldn't quite figure out.

She'd always been that way, even when they were children. Impossible to anger, letting the people around her walk all over her like she was a doormat. If insulted, she always smiled and agreed with a shy nod of her head. Only later would she react, usually with tears, when they couldn't see her.

It had irritated Albel to no end. He couldn't begin to count the all the times he'd wanted to shake the complacency out of her. Shake her so hard her that her teeth would rattle inside her head. As often as he'd thought about it, he'd never done it though. Laying hands on an enemy was one thing, but hitting a spouse out of pure anger or meanness just wasn't done. Not even for him.

How a person could be so adverse to confrontation was beyond his comprehension. His temperance was geared to fight when attacked, whether it be verbally or physically. He enjoyed the rush it gave him, the flare of life that jolted through him when his anger was tapped. The only way he'd roll over was if he was dead.

But maybe if he had been harder on her, had paid more attention, she'd have been tougher for it and…

Albel scowled and dropped his fork, pushing away his plate. He was many things, but hungry wasn't one of them. Tired, irritated, and sore to name a few. A decent night's sleep would be refreshing and clear his head, but the possibility was slim. His life held no comfort anymore, what little he had before was just dust on the wind.

His torment would cease if he could just find that duplicitous monster, Romero. It was, after all, the demon's fault that everything in his life had gone from just plain bad to utter hell in a matter of a few years. Their last battle ended abruptly, with both parties wounded badly. Albel had the upper hand and Romero, bleeding profusely, just laughed and disappeared into a puff of smoke.

He'd screamed the monster's name for days in his bed, delusional and sick with fever from poison talons and infected injuries.

Romero hadn't shown himself since that day. Months had passed by them already, but no matter where Albel searched, he couldn't find his prey. Some speculated that Romero had died, but Albel knew he was out there, watching, waiting, and planning. He heard his laughter, a reminder of what was to come, and Albel knew the demon prince thought of it all as a game. A theatrical to pass the time of a limitless existence. Sir Albel was a toy, a mere plaything on the whim of an immortal.

Albel hated that creature. He loathed the ache in his chest the monster had put there. It fueled a rage so deep that it swallowed him whole at times. He couldn't contain it. He couldn't control it. He couldn't even name it. Not when he could see their faces shrouded in blood, reaching for him, crying his name...and feel that emotion known as terror eat through his body like cold fire. Terror that he was helpless, that he was...

Albel blinked. His hands were clenched and trembling. His upper lip was damp with sweat and a bead rolled down his temple. He inhaled sharply and let the breath go long and slow, gently quaking. Damn that impertinent Woltar and his moronic deal. The old man had once again successfully tied his hands. He'd given his word, and would uphold his end of the bargain, but after they'd rescued the idiot Fayt, nothing would stand in his way. Romero was as good as dead.

"Captain!"

Out of habit, Albel looked over his shoulder. The two soldiers from Kirlsa were walking towards him carrying what looked like a round of Howling Fox Cider. He could tell they'd been drinking for quite sometime, their steps loose and smiles lopsided. Bravely, they pulled up the stools next to his and sat down, oblivious to his unwelcoming stare.

"You're up late," said a man who was taller than Albel by several inches, so skinny he appeared skeletal.

His companion, who was so stout he resembled a square, laughed and nudged him. "If I had a pretty little thing like that in my room, I'd be up late too."

Albel narrowed his eyes. "I'm not in my room, as you can see."

Both men looked at each other and then at him. "Yeah, what's up with that...sir?" the bean pole man asked. "Did she kick you out when she was finished with you?"

"I heard those Aquarian women were like that," the square interjected, ignorant to the indignant look on his captain's face. "They're loose with their virtue and even looser with their tongues." The two men nodded at that and raised their glasses in salute.

"I'll stick to good 'ole Glyphian girls. Docile and tame, willing to do what ever you tell them," the other replied, his words a bit muddled.

"Here, here," his friend laughed. "Did you see the knives that wench was carrying? And the way she talked...Whooo! If I didn't know better, I'd swear she was a man!"

The square man chucked and had enough nerve to nudge Albel with his elbow. "Best be cautious, Captain. You might lose more than your clothes with that one." The two soldiers howled then, laughing at their one-sided conversation as if it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard.

Albel glowered at his unwanted guests. Under normal circumstances, they would've never had the gall to approach him so freely or speak to him with such frankness. Drink had made them cocky, foolish, and they'd forgotten that no matter where they were, he was still their captain. "Men with wagging tongues are worse than women with loose ones. Be cautious you don't lose yours being flippant." He let his irritation show on his face. "That wench is technically your superior officer at the moment, and as you two know, insubordination is frowned upon in our army." He touched his katana lightly.

The two men grew quiet, and Albel watched the fear fill their faces as they remembered who he was. Oddly, hearing them belittle Nel annoyed him. He wasn't concerned about her honor. No, it was the two soldier's attitude that rankled his ire. He knew their type well. Small minded, bloated, simpering men who used the army as a precedent to feel big and important. The Aquarian woman was a better warrior than the two of them put together, and no lower warrior should be allowed to disgrace their betters in such a fashion. Lesser creatures needed to remember their place in the world.

The two Glyphians didn't argue. They were drunken idiots, but not entirely stupid. They shifted nervously on their stools, looking for a respectable way to make a quick exit. Albel spared them the humiliation by standing himself. His quiet time had been considerably ruined, there was no need to linger. He pulled a small velvet bag from his inner pocket and shook out a few coins, nodding at the bartender once. He gave the two soldiers a final glare. "Those lum better be ready before dawn," he said, then turned on his heel, stepping over the fallen drunk in the door way, and made his exit.

* * *

Nel was asleep by the time Albel returned to The Front Door. She was on her side, one hand tucked next to her chest, the other curled by her face. The plaid comforter was turned down neatly at the foot of the bed so only a medium cotton blanket and light sheet covered her. Her breathing was light, but deep, and her eyes softly shut. 

He didn't bother being quiet. Nel was a spy, she knew he was in the room the moment his hand had hit the door.

Albel stifled a yawn and unbuttoned his long jacket, removing the Crimson Scourge from his belt and leaning in next to the head of his bed. He folded the coat and set it in a nearby chair, then carefully pulled the mesh half shirt over his head, making certain it didn't snag on his metal arm. Boots came off next, the buckles softly clinking in the dark as he used his good hand to undo them. Once loose, he removed the armor from his toes and heels then toed the leather from his feet. He stood again, his hand going to strip the slender rope belt from his waist.

"What are you doing?" Nel was sitting up on her elbow, staring at him through the darkness.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm going to bed, fool," Albel growled.

"Then go to bed with your pants on."

Nel could feel the weight of his gaze on her through the shadows. His face was invisible in the dark, the moonlight streaming through the window at his back. He was quiet a long time.

When he finally gave a short bark of laughter, Nel jumped. "Do give me some credit, Zelpher," he replied. "I have more class than to allow a...a common woman to set eyes upon my body."

She knew he was smiling one of his insufferable, condescending smiles. "Somehow, I doubt that," she retorted.

There was a rustling and Albel's lean silhouette appeared right in front of the window. "Unlike you Aquarians, us Glyphian's take more pride in who we give ourselves to," he stated. "My body...is my temple," he laughed, spreading his arms wide in the dim light.

"A whore is a whore, no matter how much she costs, Albel," Nel remarked snidely.

He gave a soft snort and turned his back to her. "I don't need to pay for a woman's services."

"No, you probably don't. But threatening a girl into consent is pushing the bounds of rape, isn't it?"

He was quiet again for a moment, then replied, "Perhaps."

Nel felt her mouth drop open. She'd expected him to get angry, not admit, even jokingly, that he wasn't beneath intimidating a woman into giving him her virtue. Was he kidding? He had to be joking. Right? He was a wicked, twisted man in many things, but a rapist she'd never pegged him for. Then again, she hadn't known him to be much of a trickster, either. Half truths and omissions were more his style.

His deep chuckle gave her the answer and she could see him looking over his shoulder at her. Bastard. He was toying with her. "Whatever, Nox," Nel growled, lying back down. She wasn't comfortable giving him her back, so she hugged her spare pillow to her chest and watched him through partially lowered lids.

He stood at the window for a long time, watching the street below. From a distance, shrouded by shadows, Nel noticed how delicate Albel's shape appeared. Deceivingly delicate, that was. He was a tall man and his rangy build made him look even taller. His long arms were slender, but defined by a quiet strength carved into natural muscle. His hands were large, but narrow, and his fingers slim. The shoulders were broad enough to be masculine on his sleek frame, but his waist was long and waifishly lean, like a woman's. When he turned to the side, illuminated by the moonlight, she could see the imperfect line of his narrow torso, and the gentle swell of muscles females didn't have. His hips were bony and far too attenuated to be feminine, and though his legs were long, they weren't the skinny stick-like appendages so many others with his build had. They were toned, hardened by battle and countless years of swordplay.

In a way, his uniqueness was oddly beautiful. Not many men could look effeminate, yet pull off such obvious masculinity. His body oozed testosterone. It was in his gait, the way he stood, his voice, even the little motions of his hands and face. His movement was predatory, his gaze intense and bold. He was male. No one would mistake him for anything other.

Those who were too blind to see him for what he was were in for a terrifying surprise. Albel was strong. He was fast. He was deadly. How he managed to maintain such enormous power and frightening velocity inside that deceitful body of his, Nel couldn't begin to guess. Good genetics or ferocious tenacity? Probably a bit of both, fueled by an inexorable personality.

Albel pulled the drapes shut and padded to his bed on bare feet. Nel heard the frame creak and then the rustle of sheets as he settled down for the night. When his breathing deepened and slowed, only then did she allow herself to roll over and drift off to sleep.

* * *

It wasn't difficult to rouse Nel from her sleep. She'd always been a light sleeper, the smallest noise bringing her to alertness in an instant. In her profession, it was a blessing, but outside of work, it was an utter curse. It was also one of the reasons she wanted a room to herself. She needed to good solid rest. Her days were starting to merge together to the point she couldn't even remember the date, let alone day of the week. Fayt's capture had made her life very, very hectic indeed. 

When Albel started tossing in his sleep, Nel was awakened instantly by the sounds of shifting sheets and groaning bed frame. It was an hour past midnight and the sky was still black. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark, waiting for him to settle back down. When he didn't, she sat up on her elbow and glared at him, debating on whether she should throw something at his head.

Simply amazing. Albel Nox was just as aggravating in his sleep as he was awake. He certainly had persistence down to an art form.

Albel gasped and coughed, almost as if he was choking. Nel frowned and pulled herself to a sitting position, listening to the sound of his breathing. It was irregular and forced, as if he'd been running or fighting. A dream? Well, after all he'd been through, she wouldn't doubt the tragic warrior would have nightmares. She debated on waking him, but decided against it. Rousing an unpredictable, murderous man from the middle of a bad dream was probably a bad idea.

Nel lay back down, about to close her eyes when Albel wheezed once more, and then stopped breathing completely. She waited a moment for him to begin again, but seconds ticked by. A feeling prickled her skin, something ominous. She sat back up, a frown on her brow. "Nox," she whispered, squinting against the shadows, which seemed strangely darker in his corner of the room.

He didn't respond.

Her frown was replaced with an expression of genuine concern. She threw the blankets off and put her feet on the floor. "Nox," she said a bit louder than intended.

This time he gasped, as if coming up for air. He rolled onto his back, his features contorted with pain, what little light sparkling off the dew like sweat beading his face. What appeared to be water streamed from the corner of his eyes and he choked again, so violently his body arched beneath the tousled sheets. Both hands went to his throat, his talons dangerously near his soft jugular.

Panic touched Nel, setting her into motion. Something was wrong. Nightmares could be horrible things, but this was something more. She quickly made her way into the shadows, shivering as she passed through the darkness. Once she reached his side, she could see the waxy pallor of his complexion and noticed something darker on the white skin of his neck and shoulder. Blood. He'd nicked himself, but how badly she couldn't tell.

Not thinking, she reached out and shoved him harshly where skin met metal. "Albel? Hey! Are you okay?" she asked, her voice loud with worry.

Albel's eyes popped open and his hand reached out, snagging her by the arm and yanking her of balance. He pulled her to the bed, rolling them like a shark so she was pinned beneath his larger, heavier body. His face, with eyes deadly and far away, was inches from hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek. The cold press of steel against her throat lay poised, waiting to administer a killing blow that would rip her open.

Nel lay very still. Struggling would ensure her demise, for if she fought, he'd see it as aggression and tear out her throat with those chilling talons. She couldn't see him in his eyes. He was elsewhere, somewhere not Peterny. Someplace that haunted him.

Something wet splashed against her face and rolled down her cheek. She tried not to flinch, afraid to bring his attention to herself. Whatever it was, it was warm.

Albel looked at her, his eyes slow and full of death. She watched them close and for a second she thought he was going back to sleep. She'd rather die than have that happen. Before she could struggle beneath him, they opened again and he pulled away, kneeling between her legs. For an instant, he looked confused, almost lost, but that blanket of anger she was so used to seeing quickly enveloped him.

"What do you think you're doing?" he snarled, looking down at her.

Nel quickly scooted back and off the bed, out of his reach. "Me? I thought you were dying over here! Just look at your throat!"

Albel frowned and touched his hand to his neck, pulling away reddened fingertips. He looked up at her, his eyes questioning.

Nel shook her head. "Don't look at me. You did that yourself. All I did was try to wake you up." The front of neck glittered in the pale light, and Nel knew he'd given himself a decent cut or two. "Let me look at those," she said, stepping closer.

Albel backed away, holding his hand to the bleeding cuts. "Mind your own business," he snapped.

Nel crossed her arms and shifted a hip, glaring at him. "Look, I don't want to know your problems..."

"No. You don't."

Nel gave her exhausting companion a look and went on "...but if your problems are going to become my problems and interrupt this mission, then go home."

Albel shook his head and moved off the bed. He took a case off of a pillow and tore it in half, wadding the cotton up and pressing it to his wound. "Do you think I want to be here, playing bodyguard to the likes of you? I assure you, I'd like nothing more than to get on with my business and if I could, I would leave...this instant."

"The go. No one is stopping you. It's obvious to me now that you can't handle a mission like this anymore. You'd only slow me down," Nel replied coolly.

Albel glared at her. Obviously Woltar hadn't informed her of the details of their little _'arrangement'_. He wasn't about to head back to Kirlsa, let alone Airyglyph, and be stashed away to rot in some dungeon. "You can't do this alone," he snarled. "You need my help and you know it."

"Not if you're going to try and kill me every night," Nel snapped, rubbing the place where his talons had scratched the skin. It still stung, and she suddenly realized how close she'd come to being ripped in half. "Does this happen every night?" The thought chilled her.

Albel went quiet and looked away. Nel could hear him breathing in short, even breaths, but she could no longer see the features of his face. "No," he replied, his tone muted, as if unsure of himself. "I wouldn't kill you. Not like that, anyway."

Oh, as if that made her feel any better. "You didn't answer my question," she stated.

The warrior sighed and moved into the light. He was scowling so hard his face was full of deep creases. His body shook in a fine tremor, though Nel wasn't sure if it was out of fear or anger. Whatever it was, he was trying very hard to contain it. He swung his head about and looked at her with hazy red eyes. "Listen," he said, "just leave me be."

Nel clenched her teeth. "Kinda hard to do when we have to work together, Albel."

He shook his head, his eyes closing. "When I dream...just let me alone." The lines in his face faded a bit and he opened his eyes to give her a tired look.

Puzzled, Nel cocked her head. If she hadn't woken him from his nightmare, he might have killed himself with those steel claws. How could she just sit by and watch something like that happen? She wouldn't, that was for sure. "You nearly ripped your own throat out. I ca...won't stand idle while you harm yourself that way."

Albel shrugged and ran his hand through his damp hair. "You will if you value your life."

Nel made a frustrated noise in her throat. There was never any middle ground with this man, the word compromise wasn't in his vocabulary. "Awake or asleep, Albel, it makes no difference. How do I know you won't get up some night and go on a mad killing spree? You hurt yourself, why not me?"

Albel glared and shook his head. "Do you think I'm insane, woman? I know my enemies from my allies when I'm awake."

Nel raised a brow, putting a hand on her hip. "I don't know," she replied. "I don't think you're...crazy. A little deranged and misguided, but not insane." It was the best answer she could think of. Albel was a different man, with very different ideas and morals. Most people thought he was 'off', but as long as she'd known him, he'd always been very aware of who and what he was.

The tall man gave a harsh laugh. "You've been talking to Woltar," he stated. "He thinks I'm a loon! Oh, don't look so surprised. I pay attention. I know what that old goat says about me."

Nel could only hunch her shoulders. "It's none of my business."

"Correct. Woltar only _thinks_ he knows everything. You do as _I_ say, you won't get hurt." He sneered at her, moving to stretch his long frame across the bed. He hissed softly, peeling the bloodied fabric from his neck. Blood still oozed from the cuts, but it was no longer streaming down his throat. Sometimes he missed that confounded collar he used to wear.

Nel stared at him, a small frown on her face.

"What?" Albel snapped. He was tired, shaken, and fed up. He was fairly certain no more dreams would come to him again tonight, but the damage was done. There'd be no sleep. He only wanted to lay his head down and conserve what little energy he had left. All the chatter and questions were giving him a considerable migraine. He rolled over, putting his back to the woman, hoping she would leave him alone.

"Are they that horrible?" came Nel's quiet voice.

The question surprised him and he blinked. No one had bothered to ask him before, he wasn't sure how to answer. His dreams were a terrible, hellish reality for a sinner such as himself. Some were so horrific he couldn't begin to explain them, but they were always washed in blood and violence, the very things he'd embraced his entire life. However, the carnage was different, something he couldn't enjoy. His nightmares served as a painful reminder that he was only a mortal man, and there was a price to pay for such lust of battle.

"...maybe," he grumbled, not sure if she would hear him.

"Do...don't you want someone to wake you?"

Albel frowned at the window and then shrugged. He pulled the sheets closer about his head, remaining silent. It didn't matter. Awake or asleep, he was haunted by his memories. Even with his eyes open, he'd catch glimpses of that horrid night and see their faces. It was a constant reminder of his failure, that he hadn't been strong enough, that he was too weak.

Nel watched him and knew he was finished. She wanted to know more. Perhaps if she could understand what he went through, she could minimize the risk to both their lives, and, well, she was also curious. What did he see in his dreams that caused him to tremble in fear? Was he reliving the death of his family over and over again? Was he seeing their murderer drive home his sword?

How utterly terrible.

Nel went back to her bed and laid down, but continued to watch the still lump lying in the bed across the room from her. She knew he was still awake by the regular rise and fall of his shoulders and the unnatural stiffness of his body. There'd be no more sleep for Albel tonight and probably not for her as well.

* * *

Hi! Thanks for reading again! Another looong chapter. Most of them will be fairly lengthy. I think this story will be pretty long too…if I want to pace it right, that is. No hurrying! It's bad! Next chapter, the journey REALLY begins…Oh! I'm going to buy the Star Ocean manga! Yay! I can't wait! Also, I've created a "Deviant Art" page with some Albel fan art. There's not much, but if you're curious, the link is in my bio. Take care! Happy Valentines Day!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

By:Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create

a silly fan story. I have no money either

2/18/05

_I hope the formatting works this time...FF has given me the worst trouble lately. If errors occur in the upload, check back later. I'll fix them ASAP!_

* * *

Nel pretended to be asleep when she heard Albel stir from his bed. There was still an hour or two until dawn, well before the time they were suppose to leave. She listened to the soft rustling of fabric and tinkling of buckles as he dressed, and only when the door clicked shut, did she sit up and gaze at the darkness pressing against the window. 

Apris, was she ever tired. Neither she nor Albel had gone back to sleep. They'd lain in their beds like scared little children, counting the hours and watching the shadows creep across the room. The nervous energy radiating from Albel's corner had been enough to suffocate her, making her jumpy and restless. She felt compelled to watch over him, not for her own safety, but for his. Absurd, she knew, but for some reason she couldn't help but feel an ache of compassion for the lone solider.

Albel was intrepid when it came to fighting his own battles alone and Nel could admire that. What she couldn't respect was the stubbornness that blinded him when he was in over his head. There were some battles that couldn't be fought solo, no matter how strong or courageous a person was. It wasn't a matter of being weak or undisciplined, but rather a matter of circumstance. Not everyone fought fair. Not everyone was honorable. Some people would do whatever was within their means to win. Obviously, Romero was one of these beings.

Any petition for help in Albel's eyes was a sign of desperation and debility. His world was black and white, with very little grey area, especially when it came to people. A person was either strong or weak, good or evil, ally or foe. The idea that people could be both perplexed him and what he couldn't understand, he dismissed as foolery. He was smart, but his ideals were like a concrete brick inside his head and nothing but a blow between the eyes would make him see anything differently.

Nel wasn't about to revolutionize him, but she could keep an eye on him in her own way. It wasn't her job, but she did feel a bit responsible for him considering he was being forced to help her. What kind of '_proposition_' did Woltar offer him anyway? It wasn't like Albel to do what he didn't want to do. It wasn't any of her business, so she wouldn't be asking him. Whatever it was, she had a sneaking suspicion that Albel was getting the short end of the deal, so to speak.

Nel yawned and rubbed her eyes. If she laid in bed much longer, she'd either grow mold or get bed sores. No sense in lingering.

She stood up and lit the small oil lamp sitting on the nightstand, stretching her arms wide and curling her toes. Her head felt foggy, like a thick sludge sloshing around her skull and her limbs were like leadened rods.

It was going to be a _loooong_ day.

She glanced at the bed Albel had used and noticed the dark splashes of ruddy brown across the sheets and on his pillow. He'd cut himself pretty badly, but he hadn't seemed too concerned about it. Occupational hazard, maybe? It probably wasn't the first time he'd nicked himself with those claws. Still, she'd ask him again if he'd let her look at the wound just to be on the safe side. Getting a fever or worse from infection wouldn't benefit either of them now.

Downstairs, Nel greeted the day shift clerk and turned in the key. She declined the offer of tea and pastries and turned to leave, but the young woman called her back to the desk. "Lady Nel, a young man left this message for you." The clerk held out a carefully folded piece of parchment.

Nel gave her a quizzical look, hiding sudden spurt of disappointment she was feeling. She took the note, knowing who it was from, and wondered if Albel had taken her words to heart last night. Did he abandon the mission and head home, like she'd suggested?

She opened the parchment, a small smirk curling her lips as she scanned the flowing, archaic handwriting. Who'd have guessed Albel Nox held a talent for classical penmanship. It made her chuckle as she read:

_I've seen to the lum and supplies._

_Meet me at the gate._

_A.N_

Nel frowned. How efficient of him. She glanced out the open door of the lobby, noting the rich blue of a sky barely touched by the first hint of dawn. How the hell had he gotten supplies so early? A million ideas went through her head at once and she suddenly felt compelled to hurry. She thanked the clerk and sped off in the direction of the east gate.

Peterny was mostly asleep. There were a few travelers milling about the city center, drinking hot cider and taking inventory of their goods, but the shops had yet to open for the day. She passed the Gigantodrive Eatery, weaving through the tables with their upturned chairs, and jogged up the dais to the eastern archway. As she hurried down the narrow street, she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, keeping her eyes alert for ruffians and thieves. East Peterny was notorious for its gangs and criminals. Not that they were of much concern to her, but she'd rather not draw any attention to herself.

Albel was leaning against a light pole, his arms crossed and eyes closed. He wore a dark grey, woolen cloak with tan and black trim over his clothes. It was specially crafted so the right side could be pinned and draped over the shoulder, leaving his sword hand free. The left side was longer, hiding his mechanical limb inside yards of fabric, but still loose enough not to mar the drawing of The Crimson Scourge. He was still in all black, but he'd added a black glove to his good hand and a steel wrist guard.

He was an ominous presence, unconcerned of the thugs that watched him from the ally across the way. In fact, they seemed to watch him with the trepidation of a predator milling about small animals.

When Nel approached he cracked an eye open. "About time," he remarked in his usual thick voice.

Nel nodded a greeting to the gate sentry and glanced at her companion. "How did you get the supplies so early?"

A smirk spread across Albel's lips and he shoved away from the pole. "Persuasive tactics," he stated, waving his taloned hand in the air as if it were nothing.

Nel knew better. Being persuasive in Albel's world meant rattling the doors of some poor merchant and threatening them at sword point...or claw point...which ever was more convenient. She sighed, deciding to ignore it for the time being. Later she'd try to instruct him on the guiles of tactfulness and subtleties.

She glanced at his smug face. Then again, she'd probably be wasting her breath.

The sentry opened a smaller door that sat inside the much larger gate. Dust and bits of grit fell to the ground as the old wood creaked outward. No one had been through it in months. Trouble with Greeton in the past years kept the passage way to the trading town barred shut. Without proper papers and credentials, no one was to get through without the queens permission. Of course, most travelers desperate enough to make the journey from the continent of Greeton to Gait often chose to pass through Aquios first. It was easier to petition the queen directly than wait outside Peterny for a customs agent to come check their paperwork.

"Where are the lum?" she asked, glancing back down the street.

Albel jerked his head in the direction of the gate. "Out there...waiting," he replied, as if it was the dumbest question in the world. When Nel continued to stare at him, he scowled and rolled his eyes. "There is another gate near the paddocks. I assumed you knew that, being you are a native to this land and all."

"Well, I didn't."

Albel shook his head and strode though the open door. "Fool," he muttered as he passed by.

Nel fought the urge to trip him. She took a deep breath and followed after him.

Outside the boundary of Peterny, Nel noticed the passage to Greeton wasn't much different than the Fields of Irisa or Palmira Plains. The land was lush and staggered with flowering trees of some sort. Large bees hovered from bloom to bloom, collecting pollen to take back to their hive in the nearby forests. Blackberry bushes grew alongside a small stream that was almost hidden beneath thick stands of milkweed and goldenrod. There was a stone path, which she assumed was the main road, covered with moss and lichens.

Overall, it was a beautiful area, but Nel knew it wouldn't last. The continent of Greeton was known for its harsh climates and rugged mountains. And where there were not peaks, there were deserts and chain upon chain of islands. She pointed to the high peaks off in the distance. "Beyond that mountain range is the township of Plum. It'll take us at least two days to get there, but it's our first check point."

"Plum? Like the fruit?" Albel asked. Nel looked back at him and nodded. "What a stupid name for a city," he said, frowning in disgust.

Nel tried not to smile. Occasionally, Albel's candid observations were amusing, but it was rare. This time, Nel was inclined to agree with him, another miraculous achievement indeed. She cleared her throat, coughing into her hand, which earned her an inquisitive look from her sullen companion. "Yes, well...we don't have to live there," she replied, pulling a map from the inside pocked of her short jacket. "We just have to stay there a night."

"Why? The ground will suit me fine for a few days."

Nel opened the map and pointed. Albel stepped closer, peering down over her shoulder, so near the hem of his cloak touched her. "Because, it makes more sense to stay there and prepare for the next leg of the journey." She drew her finger over a blue line, following their route. "What comes next will most likely be the harshest travel of the mission. I estimate it'll take us at least four days to pass through the Rebyc Plains. That area is arid, the ground mostly sand and temperatures that reach over ninety degrees by midmorning and top out late afternoon over a hundred and ten. There are no settlements to rest or resupply at until we reach the next mountain range."

Albel studied the map in her hand, his sharp eyes following the route carefully. "It would make more sense to rest during the day and travel at night. Moving in that heat would only fatigue us and the lum. We'd be easy prey."

Nel glanced back at her companion, trying not to look too surprised. Albel was an accomplished solider, a Captain of his own unit. It was easy to forget that like her, he was a professional when it came to infiltration tactics and such. She nodded slowly. "Yes, I agree. Once we get past the desert, we'll stop here to rest, resupply, and gather information." She pointed to a larger red dot on the map.

"Mota," Albel read.

"Yes. It's the largest human city in this portion of Greeton. It'll be important to keep a low profile while we're there," Nel replied.

"Then it's not the capital?"

Nel shook her head. "No. Mota is a city of humans. In this country...or rather, on this continent, humans are not an influential force. In fact, they are usually peasant or merchant class. Greeton is under the rule of Rock Folk, who have built their capital here." She motioned to a large circled area that sat off the coast of a large island. "Citobor is where we believe Fayt is being held."

"It's on an island."

"Yes. We'll have to take a boat to get there."

"A...boat?" Albel questioned, a deep line forming in his brow.

"Yeah. Is that a problem?"

Albel shook his head, but there was a worried slant to his eyes. "Of course not," he growled, but then muttered under his breath, "...a boat."

Nel arched a brow at him, placing a hand on her hip. "You can swim, can't you?"

The look she received was supercilious. "Well enough," he grumbled, flexing his mechanical arm at his side as if thinking about something unpleasant. "Swimming...isn't a popular past time in Airyglyph."

Nel didn't suppose it would be. Most of the water in that country was of the frozen sort, and that that wasn't was cold enough to freeze a man to the bone. In the warmer parts of Airyglyph, drought had dried up much of the water and what was left was often unsafe to swim in. Of course, Nel suspected that part of Albel's apprehension wasn't his lack of practice, but the fact that swimming with that heavy arm of his could be dangerous, especially if the water was deep. Drowning was a very real possibility if he happened to fall over board on the way to Citobor.

Nel gave him a wry smile. "Well, we can always tie a rope around your waist."

That earned her an angry glare. "Shut up, you idiot," he snapped, grabbing the map from her hand and studying it a bit too intently. "Infiltrating the capital will be difficult. They'll have mechanical weapons and that cursed mech corps..." He continued to mutter to himself, recalling his little knowledge of Greeton's military and weaponry.

"How do you know all that?" Nel asked, surprised.

He looked up, his cool eyes meeting hers. "Fool, everyone knows that," he growled. "Besides, where do you think this arm comes from?" He held the mechanical limb out for her to see, flexing his talons.

Nel's eyes opened wide. "Your arm? It came from Greeton?" His arm was an advanced piece of technology, but she'd always assumed it utilized some sort of runology to mobilize it.

Albel shook his head. "Not exactly. The original, my first arm, was made in Airyglyph by a family of Greetonites who came to live among us many, many years ago. Before you, I, or even our parents were born. The men have worked for our military for over a century in exchange for amnesty from Greeton. Most of their great technology was lost decades ago, but after the...incident, Woltar and my mother petitioned Hanti, the engineer at the time to...help me...He created the gauntlet and since then, the blue prints were made available to everyone who wishes to use them." He looked away from Nel, frowning so hard she thought his face might crack.

"But how...?" Nel let her question die. It was too personal, even though her curiosity was aching to know.

"How does it work?" He gave a harsh burst of laughter and cast an ugly sneer. "I'm not certain myself, but the initial operation was quite painful."

"Operation?"

Albel nodded, shifting from one foot to another. "Yes. Hanti was an amazing mechanic but no doctor. We happened to discover a physician from Greeton capable of astounding surgeries using technology and runology. He made it so the device was melded with my nerves, allowing movement like any other limb." He touched the oddly shaped metal joints that connected his upper arm to his forearm. "Also, I can change a gauntlet at will, but it requires some adjustments which can be…bothersome." Downright agonizing was more like it, but the Aquarian didn't need to know such things.

"That's fascinating," Nel breathed, looking at the gauntlet with a new respect. So it wasn't just a weapon he wore. It was his arm, a part of his body. "I had no idea Airyglyph had such a doctor…"

Albel shook his head. "We don't. He passed away several months after the surgery was complete. No one knows how he managed it. He left no notes, nothing."

"That's a shame. Such knowledge could save countless lives," Nel thought out loud.

Albel shrugged. He didn't bother to tell her the procedure nearly killed him. The pain of the operation alone was enough to send him into shock, but it was the repeated infections and constant rejection of the biomechanical parts bolted to his bones and joints by steel rods that had left Woltar and the king fearful for his life. After the doctor died, there'd been nothing for them to do but wait out the healing process and hope for the best. Luckily, Albel had managed to prevail and slowly his natural body accepted the foreign pieces as a part of the whole.

Even still, his recovery hadn't been the end of his troubles. His new arm required repeated measurements and frequent adjustments as he grew, which Hanti took upon himself. The accident occurred at the height of Albel's growth spurts, and as a boy, he came to dread the phases of puberty with a newfound horror. Adjustments required loosening the pins that held the mechanical joints into place. Pins that were drilled into his bones and through muscle.

Somehow he managed to endure the agony of those adolescent years. Passing out had helped, but not once did he scream or cry out. By his 21st birthday, the measurements of his arm hadn't changed and he'd never been so thankful for anything in his life.

Nel took the map out of his hands and looked it over once more. "So we can expect mechanical weapons, possibly runological ones too, or a mixture of both." She frowned slightly. "I hadn't expected that."

"Bah," Albel growled, "we've faced machines far more advanced than anything Greeton can come up with."

Nel gave him a thoughtful look. He had a point, but there'd been others helping them at the time. They'd have to improvise, one of the reasons why the mission was based more on stealth than force.

Nel folded the paper back up and slipped it inside her jacket. She looked at her dark companion and nodded her head at the nearby lum. "Shall we get going?"

"Hn," he replied.

* * *

Riding a Glyphian lum wasn't the same as riding an Aquarian one. Glyphian lum were choleric and sordid, more apt to kick and bite than let someone ride them. A few Aquarian lum were that way, usually studs or well bred brood mares, but rarely did they attack with the intent to kill. It seemed to Nel that that was all these particular lum ever thought about. 

"What's the matter with you?" Albel had shouted at her when she tried to mount the shaggy creature and the beast dragged her in a crazy circle outside the gate. "It's just a dumb beast!" He'd stalked over, grabbed the reins, and socked the animal between the eyes with a metal fist. Everyone was stunned, especially the lum, who stood quietly when Nel climbed aboard.

Only after Albel was safely on his own mount, did Nel's lum decide it was safe to misbehave again. The bucking wasn't so bad, but when the equine decided to take off at a dead run, sprinting past Albel and his steed like they were standing still, Nel began to wonder if she'd survive the trek to the mountains.

Glyphian lum were strong. They were larger, more muscular, and immensely more powerful than anything Aquaria had in their stables. These animals were bred for warfare, and only a select few knights were chosen to ride them. Supposedly, the lum she and Albel acquired were the most docile, used to various riders and missions that weren't of the "aggressive" nature.

Nel was hardly convinced.

She stood in her stirrups the minute he bolted, putting all her weight into the balls of her feet and pulling on the reins so hard she thought her biceps would burst. However, her lum pulled back, taking the bit between his teeth and pointing his nose skyward. She was outmatched, his huge neck muscles overpowering her by leaps and bounds.

Out of desperation, she tried to crank his head around to slow him down, but he didn't seem to care if he saw where he was going or not. Nel was along for the ride. Either she'd fall off first or he'd tire himself out. Of course, there was also the possibility he would stumble in some godforsaken hole and send them both crashing to the ground at break-neck speed.

Not good.

Well, if she could postpone the inevitable and pray for a miracle, so be it. Nel hunkered down over the animal's neck, grabbing a fistful of shaggy hair and the saddle horn, squeezing so tightly her hands hurt. What was it with Glyphian animals trying to kill her? First the dragon, now the lum. If she made it out of this mission in one piece, she'd never-ever-go near another Glyphian creature in her entire life. By all things holy…

The sound of thundering hooves behind her made her turn her head slightly. Albel was riding hard, his lum flat to the ground, bearing down on them at an incredible speed. His cloak whipped behind him like a pair of sooty gray wings, his hair flying streamers of white and brown. He looked like a terrifying dark angel in his black attire and glinting armor. Nel wasn't sure if she should make the lum run faster or wait for him to help her.

Albel's lum swung wide, arcing around hers. For a moment, Nel though he meant to ram them and her heart jumped into her throat. Instead, he cut in close, leaning over so far she thought he'd be torn from his saddle, and snagged a rein.

Nel's lum leapt to the side, seeing Albel's hand close in. Both beasts slowed, but with Albel's hold on the leather rein, the equine's head snapped around and incidentally, its whole body followed, nearly yanking Albel from his seat. Nel couldn't hold on. The momentum sent her sailing off the side and through the air where she landed on the ground and rolled across the tall grasses.

Nel lay in the field, flat on her back. All the wind had been knocked from her lungs. Was she dead? She didn't feel dead. Nothing seemed to hurt on her body, as she expected. Her toes could move and she could hear her heart thrumming inside her ears. That was a good sign.

A shadow fell over her and she dared to open an eye. Albel was peering down at her with the most bewildered look on his face. He seemed to be undecided as to whether he should be angry with her or laughing at her. It was almost comical. When she opened both her eyes to stare back up at him, he simply said, "Fool," and offered her a hand.

Nel took a deep breath and replied dryly, "Well, look at it this way. We traveled about four miles in two and half minutes." The corner of Albel's mouth twitched and finally twisted into a wry smirk.

He suddenly laughed at her, but Nel didn't care. She felt a small smile of her own tug at her lips. It was sort of funny, in a warped, demented kind of way. She could have died, but instead, she was okay. Nothing was broken, just a bit bruised and scuffed. "You looked like an idiot," Albel sniggered, hoisting her up by her arm.

"I'm glad my near death experience amused you," she replied sourly, brushing off her backside.

"Oh, it did," he grinned. "Very much indeed."

Nel gave him a dirty look and took off her jacket, shaking the dirt and leaves from it. Her back and shoulder were starting to ache a bit, and her thigh had a massive raspberry burn that stung like the dickens. There'd be more bruises, that she was sure of, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle.

"Now what?" Albel asked, holding the reins of her lum. His humor was gone, as if someone flicked it off with a switch. He watched her with a condescending frown, wondering what she would do next.

"I get back on and we go," Nel replied in a flat tone.

Albel's eyes widened a bit. "You're going to ride again?" He wasn't sure if he'd heard her right.

Nel frowned. "You don't expect me to walk, do you? Besides, we have a schedule to keep." She walked to her mount…stiffly.

Albel shook his head slightly. "He'll do it again. You're not strong enough to take control. He knows that now."

Nel eyed the lum, who watched her with glassy black eyes. "We'll see about that. If he acts up again, we'll find out how he likes a good dose of shock therapy for that attitude of his."

"Oh, as if that'll help. You'll only anger him that way, woman," Albel growled. "If you keep falling off, we'll never get anywhere."

"Well what do you suggest?" Nel snapped, her cheeks reddening with anger. She put her hands on her hips and glowered at him expectantly.

Her waning coolness seemed to catch him off guard. He blinked at her a few times, his face expressionless. After a few moments of silence he scowled, doing what he did best by reacting to anger with anger. "I was going to suggest that I lead you if we plan on getting anywhere today. But, if you're intent on getting yourself killed, so be it." He held the reins out for her to take, staring at her with cold, dark eyes.

Heat rushed to Nel's face. The malicious bastard had her conveniently trapped. She knew couldn't control the lum herself. She lacked the upper body strength and weight. Albel was just waiting for her to admit it. Admit that she was too weak and needed his help. The worst part was he was absolutely right.

Pride was a heady thing, but now wasn't the time. Nel inhaled sharply, trying to calm her wounded ego. "Fine," she snapped at him.

"Fine?"

"Do you need me to spell it out for you, Nox?" She bared her teeth at him in an unfriendly grimace. "You lead."

Albel raised his brows and smirked. "So be it," her replied, holding her animal still while she remounted. "Make sure to hold on this time."

* * *

_Poor Nel. I really didn't mean to torment her so much. As for Albel's gauntlet, I sort of went with the FMA theory of "Automail". I also wanted Albel to be familiar with Greeton, so Nel wouldn't have all the knowledge, so it worked here. Poor Fayt too…I hope he's okay…ha ha! We'll get to him later…he'll just have to sit in Greeton for awhile longer…_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

By:Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create

a silly fan story. I have no money either

2/27/05

* * *

It was midafternoon on the their third day through the mountains. Climbing the peaks had gone much smoother than their initial set out from Peterny, but they still managed to fall a day behind schedule due to an unforeseen rockslide covering the trail. The lum were surefooted and took them over the rocks with ease, but it had been slow going. Albel wasn't certain if the slide was secure and erred on the side of caution, which was just fine with Nel. She really didn't want any more mishaps.

The nights had also passed without incident. Albel seemed to sleep in short intervals, perhaps an hour or so at a time. There'd been no dreams that Nel was aware of, but she knew his sleeping patterns were hardly healthy. No wonder he looked so tired all the time. How he managed to keep going was beyond her.

Nel's lum had also taken a demure attitude, now that Albel held the reins. Not one buck, kick, or bite. Not even a nicker. He followed behind his equine companion like a faithful dog, plodding along as if he hadn't a care in the world.

They were halfway down the mountain when Albel pulled his steed up short. The trees had thinned, giving him a clear view of the valley below. A small settlement sat in the center, surrounded by a patchwork of fields and small, dusty roads. The main road was obvious, a dark red line of hard clay leading to a sagging, fort-like fence.

He dismounted and tied his lum to a nearby tree. Moving to a ledge he knelt down, dark eyes studying the scene below.

"What's wrong?" Nel asked, hopping off her own beast and coming to kneel with him.

Albel ignored her. He counted at least a dozen or so cottages, some of which had smoke curling from their chimneys. The town was actually quite similar to the Aquarian settlement of Arias. There were no signs of technological advancement or modernization, but they were still on the out skirts of the continent. More than likely, places such as Plum were ignored and oppressed by the inland government. Dictators kept their powerbases close to them, anything that wasn't useful was either destroyed or thrown away.

Still, Albel was cautious. What initially caught his eye was the small congregation of people near the northwest side of the town. They seemed to be crowding around something…a wagon, it looked like, but it was hard to tell from this distance. Their movement bothered him. The townspeople seemed agitated or restless about something. He didn't think they'd been spotted yet, nor did he think their appearance would cause such a gathering among the natives.

"What's going on?" Nel whispered, noticing the same thing her companion did.

"How should I know?" Albel growled. "I don't think it has anything to do with us though."

Nel watched the people for a few more moments then stood. "Shall we go see? It'll be late afternoon by the time we get there."

Albel looked up an nodded his agreement. "Yes. If they're planning something, they'll do it before it gets dark." His hand went unconsciously to his katana, a gesture Nel hadn't noticed before.

"Just don't do anything rash. Wait and see what they're up to, okay?"

Albel narrowed his eyes. "Shut up," he growled.

Nel glared back at him. "Will you stop telling me to shut up? I'm sick of it."

Albel turned his back on her and walked over to his waiting mount. "Then be quiet and I won't have to say it so often."

Nel ground her teeth together and pointed a finger at him. "You know…"

He looked over his shoulder at her, his expression blank. "What is it now?"

Nel stared at him a moment, letting her words die. She heaved a sigh and dropped her arm to her side. It was pointless. "Never mind," she muttered.

* * *

The sun was low in the sky when they came off the mountain. Long shadows fell across the valley and a light breeze made the fields of wheat dance like a sea of green. Plum was still several miles ahead, but the villagers had seen them coming and were waiting at the gate in the distance. 

Nel leaned forward, trying to get Albel's attention. "Nox," she half shouted after he ignored her first few attempts.

"What?" he asked, not bothering to turn around.

"When we greet these people, we'll have to tell them who we are and why we've come here," Nel said.

"Hn," Albel grumbled. "We're travelers. What more do they need to know?"

He heard Nel sigh behind him and cocked his head back at her. "Greeton doesn't get many travelers," she said, "not with their government watching them so closely. These people might be ostracized, but they'll be curious."

Albel snorted. "What do you propose we tell them then?" His annoyance hung on his words and a stiffness tensed his shoulders.

"We'll tell them we're husband and wife, born from two warring nations. Our countries have sentenced us a traitors so we're fleeing for our lives."

Albel turned around, staring at her with an incredulous expression. "Excuse me?"

Nel frowned at him. "You heard me."

"That's absurd!"

Nel rolled her eyes. "I don't like it anymore than you do, Nox, but now's not the time to worry about petty differences. Just play the part and behave." Even as the words left her mouth, she wasn't sure if Albel actually had it in him to role play as a "normal" husband…or person…for that matter. "Well, if it would make you feel better, we could be brother and sister," she offered quickly.

"As if they'd believe that, you moron," he scoffed, turning back around to face the town, his lips set in a grim line.

Nel grit her teeth at his insult. Once again, he was right. They looked far too different to be siblings. He was much taller and leaner. She wasn't short, but of a more stalky build. Their coloring was also as distinct as black and white, right down to their skin tone. "Never mind," she decided. "Just go with the original plan…Don't blow it."

"Whatever," came the unhappy reply.

* * *

Several men, all dressed in black slacks and suspenders with white cotton shirts, waited at the southern gate. Albel dismounted, flicked his cloak so his gauntlet was hidden, and led the two lum with Nel the rest of the way. He noticed several of the villagers holding various tools as if they were weapons. He wanted to smirk at their ignorance, but he managed to subdue his egotism. The largest man, a portly fellow with a bulging belly and equally round head, stood with his arms crossed and an unfriendly look upon his face. 

Albel made a slight nod of his head, bangs sweeping into the eyes that never once left the men who stood before him. "Greetings," he said in a soft, formal voice that startled Nel. "We are travelers from the country of Airyglyph."

"Airyglyph?" said a tall, skinny man with a pitchfork. "The warring country?"

Albel kept his eyes shrouded, but replied, "Airyglyph wars no more. The country is at peace and has been so for seasons."

The fat man snorted. "If so, why do you travel?" His beady black eyes moved from Albel to Nel.

Albel stood, rising to his full height, and smiled. His gaze flickered to each of the men. Six would pose no threat to him. He was unconcerned. He made a gesture to Nel, a movement full of grace and etiquette. "Unfortunately, with peace in our country, new laws have risen. I merely wish to rid myself of a slave and have heard that Greeton offers a fair price."

Nel nearly fell off her saddle. A slave? She couldn't believe her ears. What did he think he was doing? Of all the low, despicable…

One of the men stepped forward and looked up at Nel. His gaze traveled the length of her body, lingering a moment on her breasts. She glared down at him, her mouth pressed together tight. "She's a pretty one, but that look in her eye doesn't suit her."

Another man nodded from nearby, giving Nel a disapproving look. "Me thinks she'd like to rip yer heart out sir…or sumthin worse…"

Albel smirked, slow and wicked. "And that's the trouble with this one," he sighed. "She's a devious and deceitful wench. No matter how badly I punish her, she never seems to learn. I'm not certain if she's stubborn or just stupid."

All the men laughed while Nel fumed on her saddle. For the sake of a mission, she could bear a lot of disgrace and discomfort, but this pushed the boundaries of her patience over the limit. It was one thing to be rude and inconsiderate, but stripping her of her dignity and reducing her worth to less than an animal was intolerable. A slave? What was he thinking? What if one of them offered to buy her?

She was so mad she was trembling. When this was over, the two of them were going to have words. Sir Albel Nox could count on it.

Albel didn't need to turn and look at Nel to know she was boring holes into the back of his head. He could feel her eyes upon him, probably wishing him to drop dead where he stood. He was surprised he hadn't burst into flames yet, or at least been electrocuted. She was pissed. With a capital P. It made him grin even harder.

Zelpher was a difficult creature to rattle, with her damned Aquarian pride and shinobi mentality. It was quite refreshing to see that she was human after all, capable of being shaken and enraged just like everyone else. A little humility was good for her and that high-handed morality she waved like a banner in his face every chance she got.

Somehow, his day was looking a bit brighter.

The portly man stepped forward, his smile suddenly gone. He clasped Albel on the shoulder, not noticing how the taller man flinched at his touch. "I suspect you'll be wanting to stay the night?" he asked, his expression strangely grim. When Albel nodded, the other men shifted uncomfortably around him. The mayor slowly shook his head. "I'm sorry to say our hospitality is lacking as of late…"

"Oh?" Albel replied, trying to look confused while shrugging off the man's hand. "Is there a problem?"

The villagers were quiet, their faces unsmiling. For a lingering moment, no one spoke. Agitated, Albel shifted to rest on a hip, his hand settling on the hilt of his katana. "Well, is there another town nearby that is more considerate than this one?" he snapped, his niceties finally running dry. "I don't have all day."

Nel almost slapped herself on the forehead. There was no way they'd make another town by nightfall, and even if they did, they'd be going in the wrong direction. Plum was their only option and Albel's personality dysfunction was about to ruin the opportunity for them. Not only that, he'd clipped her heels by labeling her a slave, so she couldn't speak freely among them without risking their cover. The arrogant, childish idiot…

A blonde boy with pale brown eyes stepped forward and glanced at Albel nervously. "Mayor Orie, we can't send them away. It's near dark as it is and…" his words trailed off, a hint of fear left behind.

The mayor sighed, wringing his felt hat between meaty hands. "I suppose not. There are no other villages to stay at now, so I guess we're it. We don't have much to offer though."

Albel shrugged. "A place to sleep and some food if you have it is all we ask." He didn't bother mentioning provisions for their continuing trip. It was obvious Plum was too poor to offer them any extras. They'd have to make due with what they had until they could find another village to re-supply at. There were several on the map, if he remembered correctly. Hopefully they'd be more prosperous than Plum, though Nel would be miffed at being forced to take a slight detour.

The blonde boy moved closer and nodded. "My home has an extra room to spare. It's just me and my mother now…" A pained look crossed over his young face, but he quickly hid it with a forced smile. "Ma, will be happy to have someone else to cook for."

The mayor frowned, his piggish eyes darting nervously. "Are you sure, Leylan?" The boy gave a brief nod and the mayor clapped him on the back a bit harder than necessary. "You're a good man, just like your father." Leylan smiled sheepishly, motioning for Albel and Nel to follow him.

Albel took the reins of the lum and led them past the other villagers, who watched him with suspicious trepidation. The villagers seemed spooked. He frowned to himself, thinking that perhaps it would be wiser to camp out than be surrounded by a group of frightened, unpredictable hicks. Killing people would be a good way to get noticed and blow their objective.

* * *

Leylan lead them down the only road in Plum. It was wide and dusty, with about two dozen cottages lining each side. There was a large building, which looked to be a meeting hall, and a small, makeshift barn near the north gate. The boy offered to help him untack the lum, but Albel refused and left him with Nel outside the door. 

Nel studied the young man from the corner of her eye. He couldn't be more than nineteen or twenty. Maybe even younger. It was hard to tell with these farming types. Despite his obvious youth, there was a sense of maturity about him. He was well built, his skin dark and hands calloused from hours of hard work in the sun.

In a way, he wasn't much different from herself and Albel, she supposed. How old had they both been when they were thrust into the world of adulthood? But unlike them, Leylan's youth wasn't marred by blood or war.

He noticed her looking at him and blushed, his gaze quickly dropping to study his shoes. Nel smiled. His innocence was refreshing.

"Are you certain your mother won't mind us imposing?" she asked.

Leylan looked up, obviously surprised. "Uh…No Miss, not at all. She'd be angry if I'd let them turn you away so close to nightfall." He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "The people here aren't really all that bad. They're just nervous 'cause the…incidents that've been happen'n lately. Not to mention we don't have much to share, with the drought an' all…"

"Incidents?" Nel asked with restrained curiosity.

Leylan moved his head up and down slowly and stepped closer. "Yes ma'am," he said in a low voice. "Several villages to the west of here were wiped out…"

Nel's eyes went wide. "Wiped out? You mean killed?"

Leylan nodded, his expression grim. "Down to the last person. Us and Tup'ni are the only two left in this side of the mountains."

"How?" Nel asked, astounded that they'd even considered letting outsiders into their small little town.

Fear flashed across the young man's face, his eyes showing a more white than normal. "Monsters," he whispered. "Horrible creatures that can snap a man in half and eat the flesh from their bones." He shuddered visibly, his skin growing pale.

"Monsters?" Nel frowned. She'd never heard of ordinary monsters organizing full scale attacks on human villages before. Only something with a decent level of intelligence was capable of such a thing. Berserkers or Bogles were smart enough, but rarely did they pay much attention to human cities, nor did they have the strength to annihilate an entire town, let alone several. "Have you seen them?"

Leylan shook his head. "No. No one has seen them and lived to talk about it. There's a lot of travel between the villages here and from what we can tell, the creatures only attack at night…so far…"

Nel gave him a long look. It was odd that there were no survivors. How could they be so certain that it was monsters if they hadn't seen them?

"Why don't you fight back?"

Nel and Leylan turned as Albel stepped through the doorway of the barn. He was scowling, his reddish eyes fixed on the boy. "Monsters are just monsters. They all bleed, just as you do," he growled. "Killing them should be no trouble for an entire village."

Leylan looked at him as if he'd sprouted a second head. "F..fight back? I'm sorry sir, but you haven't seen what they can do…"

"Bah!" Albel snapped. "Excuses. The strong weed out the weak in this world. If you don't fight to protect your home or your families, then you don't deserve to live." He glared for a moment longer, then looked away as a stray thought passed over his face.

"The strong should protect the weak, Albel," Nel retorted. "It's a small price to pay for being gifted with strength. Have you ever thought about that? Those who use their power selfishly are always punished in the end…"

Albel's eyes narrowed, his thin body tensing beneath his cloak. "Yet in the end, even with the protection of the strong, the weak still pay the price for being feeble, don't they?" he hissed at her.

"I didn't mean…"

"I know what you meant, woman," he snapped, his expression darkening. "Spare me the spoon feeding of your high handed morals."

Nel inhaled sharply through her nose. "You wouldn't know a moral if it hit you in the face, Nox. You're so blinded by your one-sided ideals and petty judgments, who are you to talk?"

Albel's brows arched. "At least I speak from experience and not from what I've read in some book."

Nel put her hands on her hips. "Oh, and what experience is that? The world is a big place, Albel…and it doesn't revolve around you or your past."

Albel's face went blank, his eyes cold and without any shred of feeling. "I know, from experience, you coddled maggot, that to survive in this world, you need the strength to defend yourself. And those who sit around, expecting to be rescued are just as selfish, if not more so, than someone like me."

Nel glared at him, shaking her head. "Not everyone is like you, Albel. Not everyone is capable of your fortitude and sense of preservation. People are born different. Some are strong, some are aren't, but everyone's life is important. Isn't that why we faced Luther?"

Albel narrowed his eyes and snorted. "Bah! Luther was nothing more than an interesting challenge. No more, no less."

Nel's mouth opened and her eyes widened. She suddenly wanted to hit him. How dare he demean their efforts, their sorrows, their pain. Many people gave up their lives to protect their universe, their very way of life, from Luther's maniacal plot. Everyone had sacrificed something, including Albel. For him to stand there and smugly belittle everything they fought for was despicable.

"You lair," Nel whispered. Perhaps at first Albel's motives were less than noble, but as events unfolded, his inspirations changed. Challenges and strength would mean nothing if they were erased, and suddenly preserving their world and their right to exist took precedent over all else. Even someone like Albel could understand the importance of choosing free will over destiny. "You are a liar and a hypocrite," Nel snarled, her fists balling at her thighs.

"I've killed men for less," Albel warned, his tone dropping an octave. "I suggest you drop this subject if you wish to see tomorrow."

"Coward," Nel spat at him. "You know I'm right, so you want to run. Is that it?"

Nel saw him come at her and side stepped his rush. She couldn't match his speed, and felt cold talons close around her wrist. There was a sharp pain as he spun her around, bouncing her off his chest. He balled her jacket collar up in his good hand, lifting her to her tip toes so he could peer into her face.

His nostrils flared and pupils flexed as he focused upon her closeness. "Never call me a coward again," he growled. "Ever."

Nel bared her teeth at him, her own anger rushing over her in a wave of fury. She leaned into him, gaining some balance, and drove her knee up hard. Albel made as startled noise and moved a leg to protect his groin. There was a meaty sound as she made contact, missing her objective by several inches, and catching him in his lower abdomen. He gasped, releasing her so fast she stumbled backwards and nearly fell.

As he doubled over and coughed, Nel wiped her hands on her clothes and glared. "Never touch me like that again," she hissed, her hands trembling in rage. "Ever."

Albel managed to right himself, his hand rubbing his sore stomach. She'd almost got him and he was a bit shaken. A hit like that would have seriously injured him. He'd been careless. "I should leave you here," he said in a low voice.

"I don't care what the hell you do," Nel replied.

"Fine," he snapped, giving her a long, hard look before turning on his heel and disappearing down the street.

Nel watched him go without remorse. She wanted him to leave, be gone from her sight. She stood by everything she'd said to him, she had no regrets. If he couldn't use words to fight his arguments, then he had no business starting an argument with her. She wasn't his enemy and laying hands on her was unforgivable.

"Uh…Miss?"

Nel froze, tearing her gaze from Albel's shrinking back. She'd totally forgotten about Leylan. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. How was she going to explain this mess?

She put on her most sheepish, embarrassed smile, looking over her shoulder at the bewildered boy. "Ummm…I'm sorry you had to see that. How embarrassing. You see, I'm not really his slave…we're…uh…engaged but neither of our countries approves of the union, so we fled to Greeton. We needed a cover until we got far enough away from the border." She steepled her fingers, turning around to face the skeptical look on Leylan's face. "I'm sorry we had to lie to you. We meant no harm…"

Leylan gazed at her a moment and shook his head. "I'm sorry you had to flee your home. It must be hard on both of you." He gave her a sad smile of sympathy.

Nel nodded, stunned he'd actually bought her story after witnessing the fiasco. "Yes. Travel has made us both…sensitive and irritable. I'm really sorry you had to see that mess…I'm so ashamed…" She covered her eyes with a hand, and said a prayer of thanks to Apris.

Leyland waved a hand at her. "No, no. It's okay miss," he said, ushering her down the street in the opposite direction Albel had gone. He looked over his shoulder for the tall man. "But he seemed pretty upset…You think he'll come back?"

Nel shrugged, trying hard not to frown. Good question. She didn't think he'd make the trip back to Peterny without his lum or provisions. Not to mention they were both worn out and hungry. Even Albel Nox had limits. Then again, she wasn't about to guess what went on inside his head. Maybe he would disappear into the night and leave her to fetch Fayt on her own. Oh well. She'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

She gave Leylan a small smile. "Oh, I'm sure he'll be back after he cools down some," she lied.

* * *

Albel stalked to the furthest end of town, too irate to notice the suspicious stares of the villagers as he passed by. Nel Zelpher could go to hell. If she didn't think he'd return to Airyglyph on his own, she was sadly mistaken. He fully intended on leaving her pretentious ass in Plum. He could care less if the idiot earthling was returned safely or not, nor did he give a dragon's dung about Woltar's preposterous proposition. To hell with Woltar too. If the old bag of wind was so distraught over Fayt's kidnapping, then he could just get off his ass and go get him himself. 

Albel had had enough.

Over the course of his life he'd become accustomed to people talking down to him, isolating him, passing judgment on him. Humans were ignoble creatures by nature. He could accept that and even respond in kind. He could even deal with the scrutinizing, disapproving stares. Ignoring whispers and gossip was something he did well. However, there were some things he had no tolerance for and he drew the line at being called a liar and a coward.

It was no secret in his home country that he was blatant with his honesty. Many people considered him rude, if not downright obtuse. Lying was something he had no use for. Years of watching his fellow nobles at court smile at one another while spreading vicious untruths had given him little taste for the tactic. Truth was often much more brutal than any lie. He learned to loath his fellow class, seeing their propaganda as an inability to raise their merit based on strength and wit alone.

Neither was he a coward. Every challenge, every obstacle, no matter how dangerous or difficult, he met with unequivocal force. He never ran from an enemy or problem. Ever. So how utterly absurd that the Aquarian even suggest he be fearful of her trite little speech.

What did she know anyway?

Obviously not a damn thing. The strong obligated to protect the weak? How ridiculous. If someone was unwilling to protect their own life, why should another be expected to put their own on the line for said person? There was nothing dishonorable about dying in battle. What was pathetic was dying without lifting a finger. Those willing to roll over deserved to die like dogs.

Besides, the weak always ended up dying in one way or another, so why even bother? He believed that more now than he ever did before. If Zelpher wanted to cater to the selfish whims of weaklings who'd rather die than defend themselves, so be it. That was her choice and it gave her no right to judge him. He didn't want that kind of responsibility. Not anymore.

He was sick of her pompous, imperious lectures. She spoke to him as if he was an idiot or ill mannered child, unable to reason or think for himself. And the way she looked at him! Like he was some mangy dog. Though he was used to receiving censorious stares, for some reason he wanted to rend the Aquarian's head from her shoulders when she gave him "the look".

She knew nothing about him. Nothing about his life or his past. Maybe if she had been born into a country where being stronger, faster, and smarter meant better odds of survival, her tune would be a bit different. People in Aquaria didn't starve on a daily basis, not that he was aware of anyway. They had access to medicinal herbs and runology to thwart disease and injury. Aquarians didn't die from broken limbs or simple wounds. Their children weren't stillborn due to lack of nutrition and those that did survive weren't malnourished and feeble. In Aquaria, citizens had options other than the military. They could be shopkeepers, inventors, adventurers, teachers. Their children, regardless of status could be educated. Opportunities were boundless, choices free.

In Airyglyph, if a man wanted to live and provide for his family, the military was the only option available that would almost totally ensure survival. Of course, that depended on how quickly one could climb the ranks. Being born noble helped somewhat, but even then, a particularly bad winter or a shortage of various supplies, could bring even the most wealthy to their knees. Disease and starvation played no favorites.

For her to have the audacity to rebuke his beliefs without one iota of his experience was unforgivable. Let her suffer some hardships first, then she could speak to him about the way of the world.

Albel reached the large wooden gate and stopped, his frown pulling even tighter about his eyes. He uttered a loud curse and spat on the ground in disgust. He was so angry he'd gone the wrong direction and ended up at the north end of town instead of the south. Not only that, he'd just realized he'd left his lum, all his supplies, and his copy of the map back at the barn.

He sighed harshly and leaned against the corner of a cottage, crossing his arms and banging the back of his head against the wood once. It was all that damn woman's fault.

He looked up into the darkening sky, noting the first stars of the evening with bored interest. Really, it would be pointless to set out now. The territory was unfamiliar and he was actually tired. Finding a place to sleep would be difficult, as he had no intention of seeing Nel Zelpher's face ever again.

His eyes slid from the sky as he scanned his surroundings from half open lids. His gaze settled on a poorly made wagon covered with a dingy white tarp. It sat in the furthest corner of the fence, partially hidden from view by a several stacks of large wooden boxes and barrels.

Was that the same wagon the villagers were milling about earlier? A line creased Albel's brow and he pushed away from the wall, making his way across the street.

The boxes and barrels were free of debris. There was no dust or grime to indicate they'd been sitting outside long, so he had no doubt they'd only been recently moved. He circled the contraption several times before coming to a stop near the rear.

It looked like a regular wagon. The canvas tarp was drawn tight, bound by several nylon cords.

Simple enough.

Albel shifted his cloak, freeing his gauntlet, and slipped his talons beneath the ropes. With a quick flick of his wrist, the cords popped, freeing a corner. Carefully, he pulled on the heavy cloth, trying not to shred it with his claws.

His good arm went to his nose and he stumbled back from the malodorous stench that billowed free of its prison. The cargo in the wagon reeked of rotting flesh and worse. At first he thought he'd stumbled upon the remains of some recently butchered animal the townsfolk had yet to dispose of, but a niggling feeling, like a persistent itch, gnawed at his curiosity. The odor was far too putrid for the carcass of just one creature.

Curiously, he moved back to the end of the wagon, his eyes watering despite the press of his arm against his nose. Gods, it was awful. He used his claws to snap several more ropes and then drew the canvass away from the cargo.

His mouth went agape and he made a sharp noise deep inside his throat.

People…no…pieces of people were piled into a formless, decaying mass of flesh and fluid. Eyeballs with no faces stared out at him from the lump of meat. Hands, fingers and toes seemed to reach out, splayed and clawed, their joints forever stiff. An eyeless head, hair matted with gore, mouth open in an eternal scream, shifted on its disturbed perch and rolled to the foot of the wagon where Albel stood. He jerked back, dropping the canvas to the ground, unable to tear his eyes from the pulp of gruesome conglomerate.

What the hell was going on? He shook his head slightly, swallowing the rise of bile in the back of his throat. Was this the work of the monsters that boy had spoke of?

Albel had never heard of monsters slaughtering people with such uncanny violence. Usually people were eaten or torn to bits, but these unfortunate Greetonites were butchered with precision, as if they were livestock. From what he could tell, all the parts in the wagon were considered inedible by human standards. Heads, hair, eyes, stomachs, intestines, bladders…

A horrible idea blossomed in his head, one that made him shudder in sheer revulsion. "My god…" he whispered, stepping away from the terrible wagon and its grisly cargo.

Suddenly, somewhere near the center of town, a woman screamed and Albel unsheathed his sword.

* * *

_  
Sheesh…what a friggen long chapter. I really went over my intended word count on this one. Sorry 'bout that. So, they've made it to Plum…alive and in one piece (no pun intended). This is a drastic change from what I originally had planned.Oh...Don't worry about Fayt. He's a resourceful, smart young man, so he'll be just fine…I hope…(heh). Thanks for all the reviews! Until next time, take care!_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

By:Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create

a silly fan story. I have no money either

3/4/05

(_Note: This chapter pushes the border of an R rating_)

* * *

Albel sprinted around the building and down the main street, his sword drawn and gauntlet ready. His anger was gone, replaced by a sickening sense of dread. He would bet his soul that it wasn't monsters that were responsible for his foul discovery. Monsters weren't that picky with the corpses they left behind. Humans, however, were. There was no doubt in his mind. 

It was a terribly disturbing probability, even for someone as unshakable as himself. His guts were knotted in disgust, his mind a whirlwind of questions. He had no idea how a village of simpletons could murder entire cities on their own without being discovered. Not only that, but why would they even go through all the trouble? What did they have to gain from such…such atrocities?

What ever it was, there was something sinister at work in the township of Plum. Normal people did not keep rotting body parts in hidden in wagons. Hell, not even most crazy people did things like that. He hated to think of what happened to the rest of those unfortunate peasants, but he was afraid he already knew.

They'd been eaten. Cannibalized.

It was so utterly absurd, he almost didn't believe it, yet he'd seen the evidence with his own eyes. There could be no other explanation for the contents of the wagon or the state of the corpses…if they could even be called that. There wasn't even enough left of them to be considered a full body. In fact, there was probably over a dozen different people in various pieces inside that cart.

But why? It didn't make any sense. He'd heard of humans eating one another, but the occasion was so rare and usually out of sheer desperation. Even then, most men would die before consuming their brother's flesh. Plum was poor, their crops failing, but not enough to constitute such a dire course of action. No one was starving. Everyone he'd seen seemed well fed and healthy.

Perhaps now he knew why.

Another scream pierced the darkening sky and Albel cursed. He and Nel had walked right into a hornets nest. Plum indeed…and it sounded like such a happy place.

The center of town was covered in a haze of dust and dirt. The scrimmage had already begun and he could see a loose semi-circle of villagers next to a small, brightly colored cottage. Inside the circle, Nel crouched over the fallen body of the boy, Leylan, daggers poised and ready for the next assault. Behind her a woman screamed from the door of the cottage, her eyes wild and dark hair a tangled mass of curls to her waist. Over and over again she cried the boy's name, her tone growing more and more frantic.

The portly mayor was saying something, his arms waving a small axe around in the air. Albel wasn't close enough to hear, but the fat little rat seemed to be trying to convince Nel to give up her blades. Nearby, two bodies lay on the ground, their weapons broken and guts spilling out like shiny pink belts about their waists. Oddly, no one seemed to be concerned about their fallen comrades and stepped over them idly as if they were nothing more than trash.

The other villagers pressed closer, trying to close the circle. They all had weapons of some sort. Pitchforks, axes, shovels, scythes, and other farming tools Albel knew not the names of. Even the women and children were armed with mallets and small knives. A few of the men held worn katanas, probably heirlooms passed down through their families or found while traveling between towns.

Hardly the grandiose arsenal Albel had expected of a town of murderers.

Nel said something to the mayor, her eyes unflinching despite the danger. Three men moved closer to her, but she stayed low, her body still and poised, like a snake waiting to strike.

Albel reached up with his gauntlet and cut the ties that bound his cape, letting it flutter into the dust behind him. "Nel!" He shouted, "Move!" He didn't bother to wait and see if she'd heard him. He let loose a massive air slash into the crowd.

Nel whirled, grabbing the back of Leylan's shirt and used all her strength to jerk him out of the way of the blast. The attack cut through the villagers, dissecting limbs and entire bodies. She ducked her head, holding Leylan's still form close to her as a cloud of dust and debris launched into the air. "Dammit, Nox!" She paused to cough, "Watch what you're doing!"

Albel charged past, his shoulder ramming a man with an axe. His gauntlet jerked upward, tearing through the soft belly of his enemy. With teeth bared, he tore the Greetonites spine out of his stomach, tossing it to the ground behind him.

The man smiled at him, blood gushing from his mouth. "Do you like it?" he asked with a throaty voice.

Albel blanched. "What?"

"Death?" the man sputtered. "Those who bring death…"

Albel stared at the dying man for a moment, trying to make sense of his words. "Bah," he snarled, rearing his head back and head-butting the villager in the face as hard as he could. As the man fell, he let out a gurgling laugh and Albel stabbed him through the heart. "You tell me," he growled, flicking the gore from his arm.

The woman behind Nel screamed louder, her eyes crazed with fear as Albel darted past and ran his sword though a second villager. He jerked his katana upwards, cutting through bone and muscle, severing the man almost completely in half. "Shut up!" Albel snarled at the hysterical woman, pivoting on his heel to catch another attacker in the face with his talons. He gave a hard squeeze and the burly man's head exploded, covering his own face in meaty, red and gray matter.

Nel used Albel's merciless attacks for cover. The villagers seemed more than preoccupied with this new menace and had forgotten about her for the time being. With both hands, she grabbed Leylan by the shirt and started to drag him out of the way. The woman rushed out of the doorway of her cottage and frantically pawed at Leylan's clothes, trying to help Nel get the boy out of danger.

Nel put an arm over his body, giving the woman a hard glare.

"I'm his mother," the older woman said in a shaky voice. "If we get inside, we'll be safe."

Nel frowned. Hiding inside a house was like locking themselves into a cage. A cage where they couldn't see, hear, or anticipate the next wave of assault. However, with Leylan's condition growing more and more urgent by the minute, there really was no choice. She'd have to improvise and hope that Albel did what he did best. Eliminate all living things.

Nel nodded stiffly, her gaze never leaving the other woman's face. The mother didn't seem to be infected with whatever was driving the villagers insane. Her eyes were alive, not dead and soulless like the two men that she had killed earlier. Then again, the villagers had shown no indication anything was wrong with them when they first entered town either.

Nel looked down at the barely breathing boy. For Leylan's sake, she would have to trust her.

Together they gathered Leylan and heaved him to the steps of the house. Nel looked up, checking for any approaching danger, and watched as Albel dashed through the crowd, cutting down a tall villager and then deftly turning a Hand of Doom onto a group wielding knives and chains. His movements were like some terrible dance, elegant and executed with graceful violence. It was beautiful, yet frightening to behold. "Come on," Nel said, looking away as he tossed a child of no more than twelve through a glass window. "Let's get inside."

As soon as they entered the cottage and placed Leylan on a small bench near the hearth, the woman turned and slammed the door. A dead bolt clicked into place and several chains rattled as they slid into their brackets. The woman picked up a large two by four and put it across the door, her hands trembling and breath quaking.

Nel pulled her dagger and closed the distance between herself and the woman, her shoulder catching her in the back and pinning her to the wall. She slid her dagger under the older woman's chin, wrenching an arm back behind her back. "Who are you and what is going on?" she asked, her tone dangerous.

The woman's eyes rolled back, terrified. "P…please," she stammered. "Help him first. I'll tell you everything."

Nel held the woman for a few moments longer, then decided she was right. Leylan came first. She owed him. The poor child had taken a pitchfork to the chest to protect her. She couldn't let him die so unnecessarily. "Fine," Nel said, moving to kneel next to the bench that Leylan lay on. "Start talking. What's your name?"

The woman began to cry. "Ru…Rusia," she replied over her tears. "Leylan is my son."

Nel tore open the boys shirt, hissing as she saw the deep wound in his chest. "You don't seem to be affected as the others are. What's wrong with them?"

Rusia gazed at Leylan with swollen, red eyes. Her shaking hand reached out and touched his hair lovingly. "Th…they've been cursed."

"Cursed?"

Rusia nodded slightly. "It all began about a month ago when several of the men happened upon a badly injured youth just outside the western most fields. He'd been attacked by some creature and was barely alive when they brought him into the village. He was a strange fellow, with long black hair and the palest blue eyes I'd ever seen. He was so…so effeminate I thought he was a woman at first glance."

Nel frowned as she placed a hand against Leylan's ashen skin and invoked a healing spell. "Was he human?" she asked, not looking up from her work.

Rusia shrugged and shook her head as if to say she wasn't sure. "We didn't think much of it. We took pity on him and treated his wounds. It only took him several days to recover, which was astounding. He said he was of the Tenma clan, who live just outside of the mountains of Citobor. He said his people were great sorcerers and prophets, capable of granting wishes and seeing the future. For helping him, he said he would reward our village by granting one wish."

"A wish?" Nel asked, startled. Wishes were tricky things and anyone who studied magic would know that there was no wish that came freely. No, they were costly gifts, granted only through sacrifice and hardship. "Those can be dangerous."

Rusia shrugged again. "We are a simple people. Times here are desperate, with the drought dropping our yields and the winter fast approaching. Most of the game has moved on to places with more forage and our wells are low. Starvation is a very real threat for us this year…"

Nel looked up, staring hard into the woman's eyes. "So you wished for food?" she asked, her voice grim as she began to piece together the puzzling actions of the citizens. "What happened to the other villages?"

Rusia visibly paled, tears springing to her eyes. She took a step back from Nel, shaking her head over and over again. "I…I had no idea it would go this far! You have to understand! At first it was just casual raiding, but then Orie became obsessed. He said the other towns didn't have enough either! He said we had to utilize everything within our means. Nothing was to go to waste! NOTHING!"

Swallowing hard, Nel stood up. Leylan had said the surrounding towns were murdered down to the last person. "What do you mean…nothing?"

The older woman slumped to the ground, sobbing. She stared at Nel through the slender fingers of her hands. "Th…they're in the store house at the north of town."

Nel's eyes widened. "Alive?"

Rusia shook her head slowly. "No," she whispered. "No…they've been…" She choked on a sob and slumped forward.

Nel could only stare at her, utterly awestruck. Dried and cured. That was what she was betting. Strung like weaner pigs in the worn down warehouse they'd passed by earlier during her tour of Plum and she'd been none the wiser. Revulsion rolled over her in a wave of nausea. No one was this desperate. No one would go to such atrocious lengths. Not an entire town.

"What exactly did you wish for?" she asked, her tone quiet.

Rusia's breath came in a shudder. "For enough food and supplies to live comfortably through the winter. That was all. The Tenma said it would be done, but we had no idea what he meant. Several days later, a group left to trade with the village of K'sid. When they returned, their cart was loaded with goods. Grain, meal, blankets and meat…loads and loads of meat…" She trembled and choked back a gag. "We thought our wish would be fulfilled by rain or game returning. We never expected for our people to become greed driven murderers! Somehow, bodies became stronger and invulnerable to most injury. The hunger grew to be animalistic. They couldn't help themselves! With each raid and killing, the need for more grows worse and worse. Now what you see is nothing but a shell of what Plum used to be!"

The sin of covetousness. Greed. The desire for material wealth or gain of some sort or another, known to drive men mad and make them do horrendous acts against their neighbors and brothers. Plum was infected, like a contagious disease killing their souls and rotting their humanity away. All because of a badly worded wish.

"Why aren't you like them?" Nel asked cautiously, her hand slipping to her daggers.

Rusia looked up, wiping her swollen nose with a dirty sleeve. "Leylan and I didn't sign the contract."

Nel's brows shot upwards. "Contract? You don't need a contract to grant wishes." This suddenly smacked of evil magic. Not dangerous magic, like a simple wish, but something vile. Demonic. It was starting to make more sense.

Surprise flashed across the woman's face. "I…I thought it was odd, but I wasn't sure. Leylan and I didn't sign the contract like the others did. A few weeks before the Tenma appeared in our village a woman from Mota came through town. She was an old peddler. Strange woman, actually. She approached me as I was hanging the laundry and gave me two pendants."

"Gave them to you?"

Rusia nodded. "Yes. She asked my name and when I told her she warned me not to give it so freely. She told me to wear the pendant and give the other to my son. She said the eyes of evil wouldn't see us if we wore them. I was terribly frightened. Especially since I never told her I had a son. We wore the pendants and when it came time to sign the contract, Leylan and I hid inside our home. No one noticed we were missing."

Nel ran a hand through her hair. Well, there was something to be said about the superstitions of peasants after all. Personally, Nel would have never taken or worn a strange pendant given to her, but in this case, it had saved Rusia and Leylan. They were quite lucky. "So, the others haven't noticed you're not like them? Why didn't you leave?"

"How? Where would we go? None of the surrounding villages were safe. Nor could two peasants like us make the trek to Peterny and live, let alone cross the Rebyc Plains. Not so close to winter, anyway. We planned to sneak away in the spring, as soon as the snow melted, and head for Mota. Until then, we had to maintain the image that nothing was amiss here."

Nel gave the woman a look of pity. How utterly terrible, being trapped inside a vicious circle of unending horror and not being able to break free. Most humans would snap, and frankly, Nel was shocked that neither Rusia or Leylan had killed themselves. For the rest of their lives, the mother and son would be haunted with the guilt that they allowed other people to be slaughtered and hung like lambs, just down the roadway from their home. It didn't matter that they were helpless to save them, but the selfishness of their desire to save their own lives would be a ball and chain around their ankles for eternity.

Was this the price of weakness that Albel was talking about? This suffering? Rusia and Leylan managed to survive, but at what cost? Nel shook the thought off to the back of her head. There were other things to worry about now.

She looked back at Leylan, who was breathing, but still very pale. The punctures on his chest were healed, but the wound was more dire than Nel had initially thought. The blood he bled was black, signaling a fatal wound, probably in his heart, but she'd managed to repair him the best she could. The rest was up to him. However, they couldn't stay inside the cottage. They had to leave Plum as quickly as possible, which meant Leylan had to be moved. Carrying him was impossible, but if they could reach the barn and the lum…

Nel frowned, thinking about the cantankerous beasts. The last thing Leylan needed was to be thrown and trampled by an ill tempered equine. She looked over to Rusia. "Are there any horses or oxen we can use?"

Rusia blinked at her, confused. "Umm…there is a pasture behind the barn. We have several ox and a horse we use to carry supplies."

Nel smiled. "That's great. I'll be back."

Rusia stood, stunned. "Wait! You can't go out there! You'll be killed! They aren't human anymore! They're monsters!"

Nel walked past her and undid the latches on the door. "Well, we can't stay here and if we want to leave alive, we'll need that horse. Don't worry, we'll get you out of here. Just sit tight and lay low."

Rusia fumbled with the pendant around her neck. "Here! Take this! They won't notice you if you wear it." She thrust it into Nel's hands, but the red haired woman closed her fist.

"No. You need this more than I do." Nel touched Rusia on the shoulder gently. "Protect Leylan. Protect him with your life."

* * *

Albel tore an arm from a woman and shoved her to the ground. "Stay down, wench," he snarled, pinning her with a heavy boot and driving his sword through her ribcage. The arm he held in his hand twitched and writhed, the fingers trying to claw and grab at him. He threw the thing to the ground, watching as it flopped like an wounded animal. 

What the hell were these things? Short of decapitation or being cut in two, they refused to die. Not only that, they were inhumanly strong and he found himself spending as much time dodging as he was attacking. He'd already made the mistake of underestimating the crazed villagers, and it had taken only one hit to learn the people of Plum were not ordinary humans. In fact, he wasn't sure they were human at all.

He touched the large bruise on the side of his face and winced. It smarted, but nothing was broken. Lucky. If he had hesitated a moment longer, the shovel would have probably knocked his head clean off his shoulders. He wouldn't be making the same mistake twice.

The enemies were strong, but they had little speed and were clumsy with their weapons. They attacked often in groups, which were easily dispatched. Albel couldn't decide if they were just disorganized or if they'd thought he'd be an easy kill and not expected so many of their numbers to fall to one man. Even more strange, the people seemed to become more and more zombie-like as time wore on. They were slowing down, their strength increasing, and when he killed them, their eyes were dull and blank.

Albel straightened, looking about the empty street. Even in the full dark, he could see the scuffled dirt, littered with bodies. Most were completely still, but a few squirmed, trying to get up despite missing legs and other body parts. The ground was muddy with blood and gore, the wall of nearby buildings painted red.

How many were left? He'd lost count after killing the same person three times.

A quick movement caught his eye. He jerked his head around, catching a glimmer of white disappearing into the shadows behind one of the houses. He frowned and flicked the blood from his sword. It was too fast to be one of the mindless drones. He stepped around the corner, following the swift shimmer through the darkness.

The chase continued, winding around buildings and through alleyways until he found himself standing outside the large town meeting hall. A thin woman stood on the steps, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. She smiled at him, an odd twisting of her lips, her eyes wide. "Found you," she said with a garbled slur. "Found you at last."

Albel stopped at the foot of the stairs, glaring upwards. "What are you yammering about, maggot?" he snarled.

The woman giggled and hiked her skirt, pulling a long dagger from beneath the folds. "You look so pretty covered in blood. So ferocious. So terrifying. So erotic. You wear it well," She ran the blade over her cheeked, dangerously close to her eye. "Red is such a pretty color. So brilliant and primal. Don't you think? I know you do."

Unease settled into Albel's stomach. He didn't like this. There was something different about this woman. She wasn't like the others.

The woman cocked her head, like a curious dog looking at something interesting. She ran the blade between her breasts and smiled. "Have you forgotten?"

"Forgotten what?" Albel snapped, his hand clenching around the hilt of his sword.

"How amazing the color red is on a woman?" She looked at Albel through lowered lashes and gave him a thin smile. With two hands she sliced through both her breasts, amputating them both from her body. Blood emptied in a surge onto the stone stairs, pouring down the front of her torn dress. She laughed, dropping the knife with a clatter and rubbed her hands through the wounds.

Albel balked, his eyes widening.

He'd seen this before, but the show had been slightly different. The other woman hadn't cut off her own breasts, it had been done for her. There'd been no laughter either, just her endless screams ringing in his ears until he cursed her out loud to just die.

"Isn't it lovely," the woman giggled, holding out her red palms for him to see. Her dress was slick with blood, sticking to her legs and torso, glinting in the soft moonlight.

"You…" Albel whispered, his rage boiling up from the very bottom of his soul, consuming his surprise and shock.

He moved forward, not noticing the shadow that came at him from behind until it was upon him. He barely had time to move as the pitchfork caught him in the side. A shovel came down across his back, launching him across the street and into a pile of empty crates. Stunned, he struggled to right himself. The hit with the shovel had actually saved him, throwing the pitchfork off it's mark by several inches, but it still hurt like hell.

A large man came forward, smashing his square trowel down next to Albel's head. The slender warrior gave a startled curse and rolled out of the way. The pitchfork came at him, glancing off his shoulder plate in an attempt to pierce his neck. Albel grabbed the tool with his talons, splintering the wood with his sharp claws. The frail man holding it looked confused for a moment, but that passed as he tried to spear Albel with the jagged end of the stick.

Albel lashed out, sweeping the skinny man's feet from under him and kicking the primitive weapon out of reach. He reached for his katana, leaping to his feet just in time to dodge another crashing blow from the shovel. With a shout, sliced through the large man's hands, sending both forearms and tool spinning off into the street. He turned viciously to the man trying to get up off the ground and kicked him in the head. Once. Twice. Three times until the villager's face was a mangled pulp. With a hard thrust, he lanced the man through the skull, twisting the sword in a slow circle. There was a sickening sound of metal on bone and a mealy squish of fluid.

He turned with a snarl as the woman on the stairs laughed and clapped clumsily. "Always the artist. I expected no less," she said.

Albel launched himself up the stairs, slamming the woman into the wooden door so hard the frame cracked. The woman gasped, eyes widening for a moment.

"Get out here and fight me, you coward," he snarled, shoving the blade of his katana under her chin.

The woman stared at him for a moment, then gave him a slow smile. "I don't know what you're talking about. You mistake me for someone else," she said, leaning forward as if to kiss him.

Albel pulled back from her face. "Lies," he spat.

The woman gave him a hurt look. "It's true. I know you, but you don't know me." She sighed as if dejected. "Or perhaps it should be said you don't remember me. You weren't exactly of your right mind when we first met." She smiled then, wide, showing a straight line of teeth.

Albel frowned, his nostrils flaring. Only a handful of people knew what had actually happened inside Nox Manor that night in Airyglyph. There were at three alive who were present for the entire show. His eyes opened, his adrenaline speeding up.

The woman grinned and leaned against his sword, a thin line of crimson running down her throat. "You're wife was sweet," she whispered, licking her lips. "It wasn't my idea to kill her. If I'd had my way, I'd have taken her for my own pet, but Romero said she was too frail. I think he was right, but it would have been worth it for awhile at least."

"Avarice," Albel hissed, baring his teeth in an ugly snarl as he said the demon's name.

The woman threw her head back and laughed. "Imagine, the odds of you coming here. How exciting! But I have to say, you've spoiled my fun." She gestured with a hand to the massacre behind them.

Albel wanted kill the woman, tear her body to shreds with his bare hands, but she was nothing more than a puppet. A victim, just like Kasia and Kaine. Killing her would gain him nothing. The demon was somewhere far away, pulling the strings of his marionette from a safe distance.

"Coward," Albel spat, tightening his hold on the woman's shoulder. "You demons are nothing but trembling worms." He gave the woman a harsh shove, slamming her back against the door once more. "Resorting to trickery because you're too weak to fight a true battle. Worthless scum."

Avarice frowned, meeting Albel's eyes in a hard glare. "Be careful what you wish for, human. You aren't my toy to destroy, but push your luck and…"

Albel was sick of games. His fury thundered through him like a storm and he beat the woman's head against the brittle wood. "You're insignificant! Tell me where Romero is! WHERE!" His anger seized his brain and took control of his body. He was no one's toy, nor was he afraid of these vile, ridiculous creatures. Demons were worthless beings. The could only destroy, only intimidate. Alone, they were nothing and it enraged him that he'd allowed one to get the best of him. Allowed them to take from him what was his. He would see Romero dead if it was the last thing he did. Anyone, or anything, that stood in his way would be cut down.

He continued to shout in the woman's face, demanding to know where Romero had hidden himself. The body in his hands shook like a rag doll as he beat her against the side of the building. Several times she tried to speak, but the words came out garbled and nonsensical. Avarice was losing his hold.

Nel came about the corner, sprinting while a the lum jogged obediently behind her. Close behind was Rusia, with a rundown nag carrying Leylan draped across her back. "Albel!" she shouted, dropping the reins of the lum and darting forward. He was throttling a villager, yelling so loud he was practically screaming. Nel had never seen him so furious. He was half crazed, maniacal.

At the foot of the stairs, Nel's steps faltered as she took in the wild eyed, bleeding woman. She stared at the torn flesh where breasts used to be, her hand going to her mouth. "Apris save me," she whispered, her eyes tearing away to gaze at Albel. Had he done that?

"Romero! Tell me now! Where the hell is he?"

Nel's eyes flew wide. Romero? The demon that had killed his family?

The woman tried to laugh, but coughed harshly, a spew of spittle and blood flying from her mouth and onto Albel's face. Suddenly, she looked confused, her empty eyes coming to life like a blooming flower. "Ro…Romero?" she stuttered. "I…I don't…" She winced and looked down at herself, terror filling her face. "Wha…What happened to me?" Suddenly she screamed, loud and long like nails on glass.

Albel jerked away, as if bitten. His good hand went to an ear and he stumbled back.

Nel watched in horror as the woman came back to herself. The greed had left her and she was once again just a villager of Plum. The spell was somehow broken. She fell to her knees, her hands going to her bosom and pulling away bloody palms. She looked up at Albel with an ashen face, so sickly white the veins were visible beneath her pale skin. She screamed at him, tears filling her eyes.

Albel gave her a disgusted look. In a fluid motion, he swung his katana through the woman's neck, abruptly ending her piteous wails. The head landed with a thud, and rolled down several steps, where it sat gaping like a fish for several moments.

Nel turned away, only to catch Rusia's horrified expression. A thrill of cold numbed her from head to toe, like her blood had turned to ice. Brutality was something not unfamiliar to her. She'd seen the aftermath of battle and torture far too many times to be surprised by anything. It was the look on Albel's face, so frigid and unaffected, that pierced her soul. Somehow, it made the death that much worse.

Albel flicked the gore from his sword and came down the steps. Nel gave him a cautious look, unsure what, or if, to say anything. He passed by her, his dark eyes vacant. "Burn her," he stated.

"What?" Nel asked with a lit of disbelief.

Albel tore a piece of cloth from his ruined jacket. Bending over with a hiss of pain, he picked up the broken handle of some sort of tool and bound the cloth around it tightly. "Burn her," he said again, holding out the end of the make shift torch. "Burn them all."

Nel stared at him for a long moment, studying his impassive face. It was too practiced to be anything but a mask. The Albel she knew would argue with her and make remarks about her hesitation, but this man in front of her was being very careful not to show any emotion. Too careful. What had happened between himself and the woman? How did Romero fit in? She was confused.

A noise behind her made her turn and she saw the remaining villagers lumbering forward for their final assault. Albel was right, they would have to burn them all to keep them down. These people were no longer human and they would live on like zombies if something wasn't done. The killings had to end, which meant Plum would be no more. It was the humanitarian thing to do, for the sake of the villagers and for the remaining towns nearby.

With a pang of remorse and sorrow, she recited an incantation for her fire ball, her eyes never leaving the stoic profile of her troubled companion.

* * *

_Phew. Another long chapter. (sigh) Another difficult chapter too. I wanted to be a bit more descriptive, but once again, my word count started getting really high, so I cut some stuff out. There's a lot of open ends in this chapter too, but they'll be explained soon, so don't fret. When I was writing this, I kept thinking of the villagers from Resident Evil 4 (they kill me almost instantly every time…I really suck at that game…damn not having unlimited ammo…) Anyhoo, thanks again for reading! Till next time!  
_


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

By: Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create

a silly fan story. I have no money either

3/15/05

* * *

Plum was a spark of red and gold brilliance against the blackness of the valley as the small group made their way up the northern path and into the foothills. It glowed like an inferno of retribution, a warning to all who were tempted by sin and peccancy. The night air was heavy with the scent of smoke, a reminder of the that fire was the greatest rite of purification.

They'd killed everyone.

Not a soul was left atoned in the village of horrors. No man, woman, or child had escaped absolution. Even with the cost of their own lives, their crimes were too heavy, too odious, to allow them penance. It was a terrible thing, a victim of their own ignorance and desperation, but it was no excuse.

Not even Nel could find justification, even within the teachings of Apris. She tried to pray for each person she set aflame, but in her minds eye she could only see the faces of the innocent that lost their lives to the poisonous filth the people of Plum let into their souls. How many people were slaughtered? How many children died before even living? Did the unknowing let the wolves into their town with a welcoming hand and a smile, only to be butchered like sheep and hung to dry? The entire situation settled in her stomach like a stone. It was an avoidable predicament and all the death was so stupidly unnecessary it made her sick. If only the people of Plum had been more cautious, more astute. If only they'd been less blinded by their greed and self preservation.

If only they'd been less human.

How ironic.

Albel hadn't seemed to care. If he was as sickened as she, he didn't show it. He was ruthless with his blade and torch. He cut the villagers down with a look so cold and terrible, Nel was left trembling in his wake. Behead and burn was his mantra. Over and over his sword sang a merciless incantation of blood and death as he swept through Plum like a dark demon of vengeance. By the time he was finished, all were dead and he was bathed in red. His hair was thick with it, his face splattered and hands solid crimson. Only then had he turned those horrible eyes to her and relit his torch, walking the road through the village like a phantom, setting each building a blaze.

Never had Nel seen anything like it.

And she never wanted to again.

Nel gazed at her companion's back as they continued upward along the dark path. He remained on foot, leading the two lum, the lowly nag tied faithfully to the saddle horn of the beast Rusia rode. One hand rested lightly on his katana, his head constantly looking here and there for the possible enemy hiding within the thickening stand of trees. The lum blew harsh snorts through their noses, their large ears twitching forward and backward, heads jogging against the leads. They too, knew something was amiss with their faithful leader.

Astride her own beast, Nel could see Albel's movements stiffening, his strides growing shorter with each step. His lean body seemed to taper to one side, his hip hitching as he climbed the rocky path. She knew he was hurt, but how badly she couldn't tell. They'd have to stop soon, but for the moment she was inclined to let him press on. For some reason, she felt obligated to let him decided how far was a safe distance from Plum. She had a feeling he wouldn't stop until he was good and ready anyway.

Her thoughts drifted back to the woman Albel had grappled with. The images made her shudder and sent an spark of anger thrumming through her. No woman should have to endure such a violation of her body. Any creature capable of such shameless malevolence was nothing short of repugnant.

She knew Albel wasn't responsible. Not even he was that heinous.

Romero.

What did he have to do with all of this? Plum was far from Airyglyph. How could he possibly know where Albel was? Besides that, according to Rusia, the Tenma appeared several weeks before Fayt's capture. Unless Romero was psychic, which Nel highly doubted, there was no way for him to anticipate Albel's movements.

It didn't make any sense.

Was in coincidence?

Nel frowned. That hardly seemed likely either. It was too precise. Too calculated. She needed to know more about Romero. No doubt, he and his lackeys were going to be a constant thorn in their side. She hated not knowing her enemy. It felt like she was blind, and that made her nervous, especially considering the foe they were up against.

Who, exactly, was he? What did he want with Albel? The amount of effort put into harassing and tormenting hardly seemed worthy of a mere personal vendetta. Then again, Nel couldn't proclaim to know much about the minds of demons. What ever it was that the monster was after, he was obviously willing to go great lengths to get it.

The only one who knew anything about him was Albel. Getting him to talk was unlikely, and frankly, Nel was uncomfortable bringing up such a tender subject. He was such a private, and oddly enough, sensitive person. If she began questioning him now, he would no doubt close himself off even more, leaving her considerably lost in the dark. Still, he owed her an explanation and sooner or later, she would have to get him to talk.

They stopped at the base of the mountains, where the path became incredibly steep and treacherous. Albel made a wide, sweeping survey of the surrounding area, letting his eyes linger on the illuminated inferno of Plum far below. Nel took the opportunity to dismount, taking the leads from his loose grip. This far up, they were safe from the threat of wildfire, surrounded by granite and dense foliage.

"Albel," Nel said quietly, "I think we should rest for now."

He didn't bother to look at her. He didn't even give the slightest hint that he'd even heard her. He stood, a silent statue on the hillside, watching the blaze below with eyes full of profound hatred and anger. Nel could only leave him with his thoughts, but she spared him a worried glance as she made her way back to Rusia and Leylan. Words couldn't comfort him now and Nel wasn't even sure if she knew what to say.

"Is your friend going to be okay?" Rusia asked, giving a nervous glance in Albel's direction. It was obvious that she was terrified of the tall warrior. Nel didn't blame her. At the moment, she was a little afraid of him too.

"Probably," she lied, busying her hands with the ropes that secured Leylan to the stout nag. "He won't die, if that's what you mean." That was at least true for the moment. Albel's body was hurt, but those injuries could be healed with a simple spell or draught. It was the unseeable wounds that worried her the most.

Rusia gave Nel a perplexed look, confused by the grim tone of her voice. "Oh…that's good…I think," she stammered, reaching up to help with several of the knots. She relaxed when Albel moved off the trail and disappeared into the trees like a ghost. "He's quite…ah…resilient, isn't he?"

Nel glanced up from her work, looking to the place where Albel had stood. "I hope so, for his sake," she mumbled.

Rusia looked even more confused, but kept quiet. The two women carefully lifted Leylan from the old mare's back and laid him on the ground. Nel wadded up her cloak and gently placed it under his head. They boy grimaced and groaned, then grew still.

Nel gave a slight smile at his mother, "He'll be okay." Rusia let out a sigh of relief and folded her dirty skirts beneath her knees, settling down to watch as Nel readjusted the bandages around her son's chest. "I imagine he'll be awake in the next couple days," Nel said.

"Thank the gods," Rusia whispered, clasping her hands against her bosom, "and thank you too, Mistress Nel."

Nel shook her head. "Just Nel, please. And it's I who should be thanking your son. He's a very, very brave young man." She really did own Leylan her life. If he hadn't acted so quickly when the first villagers attacked, Nel had no delusions she would be another carcass hanging in their grotesque meat locker. Not only that, he attempted to keep them safe the moment they entered town, by offering them a place to stay. The boy was noble and courageous. If she could do anything to keep him alive and safe, Nel would see to it personally.

There was a look of pain on Rusia's face as she stared at her son. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears and she clenched her hands in the heavy linen of her dress. "Something like this should never happen to someone like him," she said with a quaking voice. "What do I do now? Where do we go?"

Nel rocked back on her heels and crossed her arms across her knees. "You just pick up the pieces and move onward," she said sympathetically.

Rusia wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "If only we'd been stronger of body and spirit, this would have never had happened. It's because we were weak that we were punished."

"No," Nel replied, shaking her head, "punishment has nothing to do with it. Tragedy doesn't discriminate, Rusia. It can happen to anyone, no matter how strong or how weak they are. No person is immune to misfortune."

"But neither you or your companion would have fallen for the Tenma's trick. Only foolish simpletons such as us…" There was warmth to her words.

A sad smile played across Nel's features. "You'd be surprised. We all make mistakes, even Albel and I. No human in his or her life can claim all their choices were wise." She reached over Leylan's prone body and touched Rusia's hand. "What defines us is how we deal with our failures. Do we learn and move on, or do we sit and dwell on what could have, what should have, been done? That, Rusia, is what sets the strong apart from the weak."

The older woman gave Nel a long look. After a pause, she smiled bashfully, and glanced away. "Listen to you, lecturing an old woman like me. You're quite wise for your age, Lady Nel. I don't dare guess where you gained all that wisdom." When she looked up, there was a knowing sadness in her face.

Nel chuckled slightly and stood, wiping her hands on her sarong. "Probably best you don't know anyway. Let's just say I've made many, many mistakes in my life." More than she cared to count. More than she could probably count.

Rusia ran her fingers though her sleeping son's hair. "I can only hope that one day Leylan will be as wise and as strong as yourself and your companion." Nel only nodded, but inside she prayed that the young man never gain the wisdom she or Albel had obtained in their short lives.

Ever.

* * *

The moon was high in the sky when Albel finally returned to the make-shift campsite Nel and Rusia had put together. He stepped across the light of the small fire and folded his lanky frame against a cold boulder. Nearby, Rusia dosed quietly with Leylan's head in her lap. Albel gave them an indifferent glance and pulled a leg up to his chest, resting his chin on his knee and letting his dark eyes watch the flames dance in the breeze. 

Across the way, Nel studied his stony face. His eyes were empty, except for the tired lines of weariness they all wore. The adrenaline had long since thinned in their veins, leaving them all weary and in need of rest. She noted the deep purple of his left eye and the mottled discoloration in his cheek. His face was swollen, his lip split open into an angry red welt. "Nice shiner," she remarked dryly over the arm she had rested on her knee.

Failing to get a reaction, she sighed and stood up, dusting her backside with her hands. This wasn't the time for jokes. She'd been out of line, trying to goad him into an argument. Nerves were making her snippy and confrontational, anything to grasp some semblance of normalcy in an evening that was so completely unnatural.

She stepped across the clearing and knelt beside her unwilling ally, studying his injuries. Up close, the bruise appeared worse, his eye partially closed shut from the pressure. It wasn't just purple either, it was an ugly macramé of colors; blue, greenish yellow, and red. She glanced down his body, knowing he was hurt else where, but not certain where. His movements were far too stiff, as if his neck and arms were laden with wooden planks. The way his hip buckled when he walked indicated he'd injured something in his leg or back, which wasn't good.

Despite his victory, he'd taken quite the beating.

"Let me see your wounds," she said. She knew he'd heal them himself if he had the proper items, but the his medicinal pack was currently burning back in Plum. They'd only had time to grab one of the saddle packs and it held only water and food materials.

When she raised her hand to touch his face, Albel's reddish eyes slid to look at her. A long silence hung between them as they studied one another, as if waiting to see what might happen next. Finally Albel spoke, his voice a low growl, "I'm fine."

Nel's brows pinched together. "No, you're not. Just shut up and let me do this," she snapped. "Why is it so hard for you accept help? It won't kill you, you know."

Albel blew a huff of air through his nose and looked away. He didn't argue when Nel hesitantly touched her finger tips to his warm face. He flinched, but not as if she'd hurt him. It was more like a reflex, an aversion to her touching him. His entire body stiffened, his breath growing more restricted and shallow. Technically, she could heal him without having to lay a finger on him, but most healing spells were more efficient if there was contact.

"Relax," Nel said, "I'm not going to hurt you."

The look he gave her was skeptical.

Nel couldn't help but wonder at what point in his life had he become so contrary to another person's touch. His reaction, even to the most accidental of brushes, reminded her of whipping boy or abused child. Growing up in Airyglyph was hard, being a member of the military was even more difficult, but those reasons didn't explain his aversion to human contact. She knew nothing of his childhood, but his father had loved him enough to die for him and both Woltar and the King seemed concerned for his welfare. It wasn't as if he was surrounded by people who were uncaring and abusive.

How he managed to father a child was beyond Nel. That sort of contact was the closest, most intimate, two humans could be. Not only that, it often took several tries to produce an babe, so what had he done then? Put a bag over his head?

Or maybe he'd been lucky and managed it on the first try?

Doubtful.

He was still male. Sex was something his complex was probably willing to over look. When men were in the "_mood_", they could justify that the sky was made of marmalade and the moon was solid cheese, if it got them what they wanted.

Nel shook the images from her head, her cheeks flushing. She really shouldn't be thinking such things. It wasn't any of her business, though she'd be lying if she said she wasn't curious. Albel's complexity was like a bad carriage wreck. She knew she shouldn't pay any attention, but it was impossible to ignore.

She glanced up and blushed even harder when she noticed he was looking at her, his rapidly healing face pulled into a curious frown. Jerking her hand away, she ducked into the shadows, using the dark to hide her embarrassment. "Uh…anywhere else?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"I thought you said you weren't a liar?" she quipped, scowling at him and earning herself a nasty glare in return. "Let me see your back." He started to argue but Nel pointed a stern finger at him.

He closed his mouth and stood up, making a show of pulling off his tattered coat. When he was dressed in only his mesh undershirt and suede pants, he turned in a circle, spreading his arms wide. "Happy now?" he grumbled.

From the side and without his heavy coat, he was even more waifish. His body was mainly bones and with knots of ropey muscles. Nel could see the sharp angle of his collar bone and shoulder blade. Her eyes followed the line of his flat stomach to his angular hip protruding just above his pants line. It was there she noticed the deep gouge, still running red and caked with grime. She stepped close, moving behind him and saw several more seeping punctures dangerously close to his kidney. "You weren't going to tell me about these?" she asked, her tone hot with anger.

Albel shrugged. "I've had worse."

"That's not the point," she snapped, seeing the deep bruises along his lower back. Her hand went to his spine, her fingers probing the discolored areas carefully for broken bones. She was too angry with him to notice his skin jump beneath her fingertips. She would never understand his penchant for needless suffering. Was it so painful to admit he couldn't do everything on his own? She wanted to scold him for being so childish. Pride was important, but it meant nothing if it got a person killed.

When her hands glided close to his ribs and down his sides, he craned his neck back to look at her, and shifted uncomfortably. She touched the puncture marks and he yelped, pulling away. "These are pretty bad," she stated. "You're damn lucky they weren't deeper."

"If you're just going to poke at them, leave me be," he hissed, folding his arms about himself like a worried child.

Nel gave him an unsympathetic look but stopped her probing. She cast her spell, carefully laying her hands against the injuries, letting the healing warmth spill from her and into him. She took the moment to study him, noticing his face relaxing as the pain ebbed away. His frown eased into what vaguely resembled relief, the tension leaving his muscles as he unconsciously leaned into her hands.

His skin was warm and soft as it knitted beneath her fingertips. Nel wasn't sure why, but it surprised her. Albel's personality was so cold and apathetic she'd always assumed everything about him was glacial. Yet here she stood, his blood sticky on her hands, the warmth of his body permeating hers, and his pain evident upon his face.

She suddenly realized how badly she'd dehumanized him, seeing him only as an avatar of emotions instead of as a flesh and blood person. She wasn't the only one either. Albel the Wicked wasn't a human being, he was a nightmare among men, and icon of destruction. His name was connected with fear and carnage, but nothing else. No one ever tried to see if there was something more.

How many years had he lived with being less than a person, his humanity stripped away by his fellow man? No wonder he loathed the touch of others. He was no fool. He knew what they saw him as, and to protect himself, he rejected them as they rejected him. In his world, there was himself and the "maggots", "worms", or "fools".

Her guilt made her pull away and Albel cast a curious look at her over his shoulder. Nel was shaken, keeping her eyes to the ground. She fisted her hands, wanting to wipe them on her clothes in hopes of erasing her newfound knowledge, but she couldn't. He would see it as her trying to rid herself of his "filthy" residue.

He was an extremely sensitive individual, a trait she'd once categorized as pugnacious and captious. He was easily offended when people stared at him and quick to argue if someone disregarded his opinion when he felt inclined to give it. Years of being seen as inhuman had to get on a person's nerves and Albel was ardent enough to say so in his own way. Of course, when he did, he was just being "difficult".

It wasn't fair.

And it wasn't right.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing.

Nel bent over and picked up his cloak, schooling her eyes to hide her guilt. "Nothing," she lied, standing back up and holding the jacket out as if it was the most interesting thing she'd seen. "This has seen better days," she stated, poking a finger though a large hole. "I don't think its salvageable."

Albel snatched the jacket away, rolling it up and tucking it under one arm. "I have my cloak," he said, unamused. He touched his back where the punctures had been and gave a satisfied snort.

"You're welcome," Nel said, sitting down.

Albel sat too, close, but not too close. He tucked his legs up to his chest, his favorite sitting position. A long arm curled around one leg, his chin settling on his knee. His eyes closed, but Nel knew he wouldn't sleep. For a long while they sat in the dark, listening to the sound of the fire crackling and the noises of the night.

Nel had questions, ones she felt needed to be answered. "Albel," she asked, her voice quiet.

"It wasn't Romero," he replied, his eyes still shut.

She was a bit thrown when he premised what she intended to ask. "Then who?"

He was quiet a moment, but his eyes slid open and watched the flames dance in the breeze. "Avarice," he stated, saying the demon's name as if it tasted bad.

"Avarice? That doesn't tell me anything," Nel remarked, uncurling her legs and leaning forward. "Who is he and how do you know him?"

Albel's face grew dark, as if he was remembering something terrible. "He's one of Romero's underlings. He was at my manor in Airyglyph," he stated.

Nel's curiosity was perked instantly. She wanted to know exactly what had happened that night. Woltar had given her a brief synopsis, but he hadn't been present for the whole event, just the aftermath. She waited quietly for him to continue, but Albel remained silent. He wasn't going to elaborate. Not without being pushed and Nel wasn't sure she was ready to approach that subject.

"Okay. Why was he in Plum?"

"How the hell should I know?" Albel snapped. "Demons don't have reasons for doing things. Everything is a game to them."

Keeping her patience in check, Nel asked, "So we can expect him to come after us?"

Albel jogged his shoulders. "Maybe."

Nel sighed. "Work with me here, Albel. I'm trying to figure out how cautious we'll have to be from now on. I didn't ask to get caught up in your personal mess, you know."

The look he gave her was withering. "Then you should have left me back in Kirlsa."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"It means you _should _be careful. These demons don't care what our relationship is. If they think harming you will hurt me, you'll become a target." He stared at her, waiting for her reaction.

She surprised him by not appearing startled. "I figured as much," she replied, "but don't you think that kind of information is important?"

"I never really thought about it until now," he said in earnest.

Blinking, Nel bit her lip. Well, that was blunt. At least she knew where she stood with him. "Gee, thanks," she remarked sourly.

"Well, it wasn't like I was given much choice," Albel growled back. "Go or be tied up for the rest of my natural life. Which would you choose?" A look of disgust crossed his face and he muttered something about Woltar under his breath.

"Woltar threatened you?" she asked, frowning when he nodded. Airyglyph certainly had a strange way of getting their people to cooperate. She knew the two of them had some sort of deal going on and knowing Woltar, it would be particularly one sided, but she hadn't expected it to be so severe.

"Stop gawking. It's not the first time," Albel grumbled.

Nel shrugged. Glyphians were a strange bunch. "So what now? Will that Avarice character tell Romero where you are?"

Albel's lips thinned into a pale slash. "If I'm lucky," he replied.

Nel sighed and rubbed her eyes. Talking to Albel was exhausting. "Apris," she muttered. She found it hard to believe that Avarice being in Plum was a mere coincidence, but there was no other explanation. Apparently the reach of demons knew no boundaries, which was cause for concern. If Romero's lackey was here, no doubt he could easily find them.

If he didn't know their whereabouts already.

"So, what's the plan? You know more about these creatures than I do," she asked.

"Plan? There is no plan. Just get your mission done so I can go about my business. If we happen to run into Romero, I'll deal with him." Albel touched his sword, gripping the hilt so tight his knuckles bled white.

Nel leaned back against her rotting log and pinched her nose. She was getting a tremendous migraine. Her mission started out pretty straight forward. Not simple, but easy enough. Now it was turning into one big nightmare. Since leaving Kirlsa, nothing but misfortune fell into their path. It was like some tragic comedy, so absurd it was almost funny. She wasn't laughing, however. Following her gut instinct and leaving Albel in Kirlsa would have been for the best, but it was too late for regrets now. It wasn't necessarily his fault…not totally anyway, and blaming him seemed unfair.

She felt his eyes watching her and she looked up. "Well, I guess we'll just deal with things as they come," she replied.

A look of surprised passed over his face before he became suspicious once more. "What? You aren't going to get mad?"

Nel frowned at him. "What ever for? It's not like you meant for these things to happen to you."

Albel gazed at her hard, as if he was trying to sniff a lie. "Hn," he snorted, turning away.

Silence fell between them once more. The fire burned low, the wood blackened to lumps of charcoal, embers glowing brightly. Nel reached over and grabbed a piece of kindling, tossing it carelessly into the low flame. She leaned back, gazing at the stars which shone bright in the black sky.

She jumped when Albel's voice came out of the darkness.

"What was that garbage you were spewing earlier?"

"Huh?" she asked, touching her chest and trying to calm her fluttering heart.

He jerked his head in the direction of Ruisa and Leylan. "When you were talking with that blubbering wench."

Nel pulled herself up, squinting curiously into the shadows. "You were listening?"

"Huh. Some spy you are," he sniffed.

Nel gave him a look, though it bothered her she hadn't been aware he was nearby. "Well, I'll have to remember to be more careful. What do you care what Rusia and I were talking about?"

Albel concentrated on the darkness beyond the campsite. "They could be spies, you know." His eyes slid to look at the two new members of their party. "You don't know them. Don't you think it strange that they were the only people not effected by Avarice's magic?"

Glancing at the mother and son, Nel shook her head. "No, not really." She gave a brief explanation of the old woman and pendants, to which Albel scoffed.

"What if you're wrong?" he asked, his tone condescending.

"Then I'm wrong and I'll deal with it," she stated. "Like I said to Rusia, it's okay to make mistakes, but only if you learn something from them."

Albel waited for her to go on, a look of interest beneath his sullen mask. "So you're saying it's just fine to go out and screw up?"

Nel shook her head. "I never said that. Mistakes happen. Thinking things to death doesn't do any good either. The more a person worries about messing up, the more apt they are to blunder. I couldn't leave those two there, not knowing if they are truly ally or foe. I'd rather be wrong now than have it on my conscious that I abandoned two innocent people to that…that horror. Perhaps if circumstances were different, my choices would have changed, but we'll never know. Sometimes you just have to choose a path and hope for the best. I'm not afraid to be wrong."

"Even if someone gets hurt?"

Nel scratched her cheek, nonplussed at his question. "Sometimes it can't be helped. It's really no one's fault. What makes failure so horrible is when you keep making the same mistakes again and again."

Albel grimaced and looked away. "How ridiculous," he muttered. "Failure is just a product of weakness."

"Then by your reasoning, all people are weak because there isn't a man or woman alive who hasn't made a mistake sometime in their life."

Albel grew quiet, mulling over her words. His expression was melancholy, as if he was thinking of something equally depressing. His shoulders slumped and he rested his cheek on his knee once more. His dark eyes closed and he murmured so low Nel had to strain to hear him, "I suppose there _are_ fools who never learn." He gave a dismal chuckle and grew silent.

For a moment, Nel thought he was making some jab at her character and opened her mouth to defend herself. Instead, the realization hit her so suddenly she gaped at her quiet companion.

He was talking about himself.

* * *

_Sorry for the short delay. I've been pretty busy here, especially with work and finding the time to actually sit down and write has been difficult. I can't write when I'm tired…things just don't come out well (as you can see). This chapter is a bit of a transition, so its kinda dull. I hate doing chapters like this, because I want to write the fun stuff instead. As for Albel and Nel's relationship, just keep watching…(god, I hope things turn out as I intend them too...) ha ha ha_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

By:Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create

a silly fan story. I have no money either

3/19/05

(_This chapter is a bit longer than most_)

* * *

Nel and Albel stood on a narrow, craggy ridge, arguing over the map they held between them.

"Another two days is nothing," Albel was saying, his eyes slivers of agitation.

"Another two days and Fayt could be dead," Nel snapped in annoyance as she tried to wrench the map from her companion's hand.

"Bah! At the rate we've been going, he's probably already dead!"

Nel threw her hands up in the air, letting go of the parchment so fast Albel had to take a step back or get hit in the face. "Weren't you the one who was in such a hurry to get this over with? I swear, you change your mind more often than a baker bakes bread."

The lean warrior gave the angry woman a blasé look. "In Airyglyph, that's not very often," he replied matter of factly.

Incensed at his sarcasm, Nel kicked a pile of gravel at him, sending a spray of rocks clanking off the metal guards of his boots. He looked down, with a brow arched, still holding the map in his hand.

All morning, non stop, they'd done nothing but bicker between one another. How to properly carry a wounded man. What path to take. What kind of birds above them. When they should eat. What they should eat. Who was dirtier. It was an unending loop of absurd snipes and petty lashes, not even fit for a school yard.

Plum was two days behind them, but the lingering antipathy had left everyone apprehensive and anxious. Albel wasn't sleeping well, or rather, worse than usual. He didn't seem to be having nightmares, but when night fell, he became increasingly restless and nervous. Coincidently, his insomnia was contagious, and Nel found herself lying in the dark, jumping at shadows and noises that didn't exist. Between the two of them, the time they spent actually sleeping couldn't be more than an hour or two.

The tension was nerve wracking.

Rusia fared better than the two soldiers. She was accustomed to living with fear and unease, so when it came time to rest, sleep came easily to her. The constant quarreling seemed to bother her more. When a fight began to brew, she would busy herself with the semi-conscious Leylan, her face always full of tired, worried lines.

Albel shook the dirt from his shoes. "If you're going to throw a tantrum, I'm going to find something to eat," he said, stalking past Nel and shoving the map into her hands. "Let me know when you want to play grown-up."

"Oh, you're one to talk," Nel snapped. "All you've done is complain since we left Plum. What is your problem?"

Albel spun about, his long tails of hair arcing around him. "My problem?" he crooned. "Where do you wish me to start? Perhaps we should begin with _that_," he said, gesturing out over the view point below them.

Nel followed his outstretched arm with mild interest. She didn't need to look to know what had his loin cloth in a bunch this time. Beyond the mountain range they stood on, a sea of gold spanned as far as the eye could possibly see. There wasn't a speck of color that wasn't gold. Not a single hint of shrub or rock. Only waves upon waves of dunes in an ocean of sand. "It's a desert," Nel replied. "I told you this part of the journey was going to be arid."

"Arid!" Albel exclaimed, his cheeks gaining color. "Woman, this makes the Mosel Dunes look like a damn oasis!"

Nel shrugged. Okay, so she hadn't expected it to be exactly this dry, but there was no need to admit it. "Well, what do you want me to do about it? I'm fresh out of pixie dust."

Affronted, Albel's eyes narrowed. "Pixie dust? How…cute."

Nel smirked.

"If you and your extra baggage want to trudge through that death trap on the rations we have, go right ahead. I don't intend to die so needlessly."

Nel arched a brow at him, "Is that so?"

Albel glared. "Yes. That is so. Have you even bothered to look at what we have left?" he asked, quickly changing direction of the subject.

"Of course I have. I'm not a total idiot, you know. We have enough to make it through Rebyc and into Mota." Nel crossed her arms in defiance, daring him to question her further.

"I doubt that. Not with those two tagging along." He shot a look at Rusia, who ducked behind one of the lum.

"What? You think leaving them in Plum was a good idea?" Albel just stared at her and Nel shook her head. Stupid question. "Listen. I told Rusia we would take her to Mota. I owe her son at least that much. Surely even you can understand that."

"Why Mota? Why not Tup'ni? If we dump them there, we can resupply and be on our way. It's obviously the most efficient plan."

In some respects, he was correct. It would be easier to leave Rusia and Leylan in Tup'ni, but Nel had her principles. Tup'ni was the only village left on this side of the mountain range. It sat high in the peaks, surrounded by rugged terrain and steep cliffs. The trek there was dangerous and tedious, which explained why the town was saved from the rampages of Plum. The trip would take them at least two days, though technically the village wasn't far from where they were now.

"It's only a matter of time before someone investigates Plum. They'll figure out what happened and what do you think will happen to Rusia and Leylan then? They're the only survivors and the people in these parts aren't exactly the most civilized. It would be better to set them up in Mota, which is a bigger city, where no one will care who they are or where they came from."

Albel snorted, his face set in disapproval. "We still need supplies. Two people might be able to cross that wasteland, but not four…unless, of course, it was your plan all along to drink the blood and eat the flesh of our lum."

Disgusted, Nel wrinkled her nose. That certainly hadn't been her intention. Actually, she'd forgotten about their equine companions. Her oversight must have shown on her face because Albel sneered triumphantly.

"I'm hungry," he stated suddenly, giving Nel his back and denying her chance to speak. "I'll fetch something and you will cook it, wench," he said, looking to Rusia. Wide-eyed, the older woman gave him a shaky nod. With a final glance over his shoulder at the fuming Nel, he smiled to himself and disappeared up the trail.

When he was out of hearing, Rusia turned back to Nel, wringing her hands together. "Master Albel is certainly…ah…energetic today," she said in a quiet voice.

"He's a dirty wretch," Nel grumbled, ignoring Rusia's gaping stare. She reached inside her clothes, producing her daggers.

Rusia gasped and reached out, grabbing hold of Nel's wrists. "Lady Nel, you mustn't!" she exclaimed, her voice holding a hint of panic.

Nel gave her an incredulous look. "Mustn't what?"

Jerking on Nel's sleeve, the woman gestured to the weapons. "I know Master Albel is a bit…gruff, but he means well!"

Brows perched high, Nel stared at the woman. "Relax, Rusia. I'm just going to look for food too."

Rusia drew her hands away slowly, an embarrassed flush gracing her face. "Oh. I thought you were going to slay him."

A wicked smile spread across Nel's face. She almost laughed, but didn't want to seem rude. Flipping one of the daggers into the air, she said, "Of course not! If I was going to kill him, I'd choke him until his face turned blue. A knife is far too impersonal for the likes of him."

Opening her mouth like a fish and frowning, Rusia replied, "It seems you've thought about this often."

Nel started up the trail. "You have no idea."

* * *

Sunlight streamed through the canopy of the sparse forest, dappling the ground with a various mosaic of light and dark. The trees were spindly, yet tall, and there was a mix of both coniferous and deciduous species living in a mingled harmony. The familiar scent of pine was mixed with the odor of decaying, musty leaves as Albel padded over the soft forest floor. 

Over his shoulder he slung three unfortunate squirrels and a skinny rabbit. All together, there wasn't enough meat on the animals to feed one person, let alone four. He had a sneaking suspicion that the hare was worm ridden and the meat would be rancid anyway.

Rodents seemed to be doing well high upon the peaks of the mountains. He'd seen no sign of larger animals, herbaceous or carnivorous. Forage was adequate enough to support only the smallest mammals, insects, and bird life. Most likely, the larger creatures moved on to other areas where food was more plentiful. His hopes of striking down a stag or wild pig were long dashed.

If Albel's resolve to detour to Tup'ni wasn't strong before, he was more certain than ever that there was no way they'd make it through the desert of Rebyc without re-supplying. The forest was forgiving and would always yield some sort of sustenance, but the sea of sand wouldn't be so generous.

The Aquarian was a fool if she thought otherwise.

He was half tempted to let her hide cook in that sand trap. It would serve her right for being so haughty. He'd never met a woman more incorrigible. She was always throwing her opinions around. Always questioning his logic. Always sticking her nose into his business. Nel's nagging was enough to drive any man to suicide.

Her only redeemable feature was the pleasure he got out of pissing her off. It was so easy. Oh, she pretended to be cool and impenetrable, but her temper was actually worse than his own. Once he'd figured out which buttons to push, all it took was a little nudge here and a push there, and her pretty little face would turn the color of over ripe Grana fruit.

How funny.

Picking at Nel until she cracked like a block of ice in the middle of the Mosel Dunes was almost as good as opening a shiny wrapped package on his birthday. Her frustration and irritation was the prize inside the box. Seeing her worked up almost made him…happy.

Kasia never amused him much. Actually, not at all. She'd hated confrontation, even the sporting kind, and was always willing to defer to his opinion. Like she was some sort of puppet. A doll. Albel couldn't remember a time when he'd talked with her, instead of at her. Better conversations could have been held with a post.

Communication between them had been moot. Anything his wife had to say wouldn't have interested him much anyway. They'd been miles apart, far too different people to have anything to share with each other. To her, he'd been nothing more than a symbol of her status and a shield to hide behind. For him…well, she'd been an obligation.

Still, he never disliked his wife, so to speak. If asked, he would have to say he felt indifferent to her in most respects, though once she was gone, he noticed her absence considerably.

Why?

Perhaps because she added a consistency to his life that he'd never had before. He could always count on her to be at their home when he returned from where ever he'd gone off to. Kasia never changed. He'd known her since they were young brats playing at Woltar's mansion, and though she grew into a young woman, her heart and mind stayed the same. He knew what to expect from her. What her reactions would be. She would never surprise him or betray him like so many other people in his life had done.

He didn't trust Nel the way he had Kasia. In a battle, he held faith in her and even respected her skills as a spy. Outside of warfare, he wasn't sure what to make of her. The Aquarian was so animated and alive, he found her almost intimidating. The vitality in her eyes was intense, something he wasn't used to seeing or dealing with in a woman. It made him nervous and suspicious, as did all things he didn't understand.

He tried to think of her as a man, but that was difficult. To get around her femininity he would have to be blind. There was nothing manly about her, and that annoyed him, because it made his pretending impossible. Women, especially beautiful women, weren't suppose to be killers or soldiers. He couldn't seem to move past that point, so looking at her as warrior was difficult too.

So he settled on imagining her as something androgynous. Neither man or woman. It helped to curb his confusion and stamp out the sexism that he was so accustomed to.

Most of the time…

Albel paused in the middle of the forest and ran his hand through his ragged bangs. He winced when his fingers hit a nasty snarl of tangled hair and something worse. Days had passed since he'd last bathed and there was still blood and grime matted in his long mane.

Being dirty made him cranky.

He scowled, working though the snarl until with was semi-free.

He needed a bath.

He needed something to eat.

He needed a good, solid sleep.

He stared at his hand a moment, rubbing the grit between his fingers. None of that was going to happen any time soon.

Running into Avarice had been a big surprise. Albel thought he'd never meet the demon of Greed again in this life time. Technically, he'd never properly met him, but he remembered the creatures voice well enough.

How could he forget?

A flare of anger shook him. Avarice would run to his master. He was certain of it.

And Romero would be curious.

There was a good chance the Master Demon would come to take a look for himself.

Perhaps coming on the Aquarian's quest would prove more productive than he originally thought. For once, things could work in his favor.

But Nel would be in danger.

That brought a quick frown to his face, quenching his brewing excitement.

The possibility of encountering Romero was never far from his mind. The demon was capable of popping up almost anywhere he pleased. All he needed was a whim. Now that the chances of meeting was a near certainty, Albel felt uneasy. The Aquarian woman would be nothing more than cannon fodder in one of their battles, and for some reason, that bothered him. Nel wasn't one to run, and even worse, if she thought he was in trouble, she would come to "_help_" him. She had no idea how diabolically lethal Romero and his minions could be. Plum was just a side show compared to their other twisted games.

If she became involved, she would die.

The idea of more innocent blood shed because of his personal affairs troubled him.

There was nothing he could do to prevent he inevitable. Romero would come for him. He wasn't deluded enough to think that Nel would have no involvement in his private war now. All he could do was count on her resilience and intellect as a warrior for the time being. When the time came, he would think of some way to keep her out of the fray.

"_Don't think too much_." Wasn't that what the Aquarian had said to him. He hated to admit it, but she was right. Worrying wouldn't solve any of his problems. All it did was make him even more tired and cranky.

He came into a large clearing. Beyond the trees stood a wall of granite, slick with moisture. Deep fissures, like some artisan had taken a chisel and carved massive columns along the grain of the stone, loomed high above his head. Water seeped from the cracks like the rock was some sort of sieve. There was one waterfall, a mere spicket of clear liquid cascading into a crystalline pool below. The ground nearby was bare, except the occasional barberry and spindling sapling.

Craning his head back, Albel watched the water fall from the top of a high ledge. A natural spring? He'd never seen one such as this before. The water appeared to come out of the mountain side like magic.

He set his game down and walked to the edge of the pool, staring into the clear water. The bottom was visible, as if he could reach out and touch it. It wasn't deep. Maybe four or five feet at the most. There was no sign of life, not even algae or plants.

Dropping to his knee, he cautiously ran his fingers across the glassy top.

It was cold.

Really cold.

He lifted his hand and sniffed the water that dripped from his digits. No scent of sulfur or minerals. No hint of poison.

He looked back up the face of he columnar jointing, a curious frown placed on his face.

* * *

Nel slipped through the pale shadows along a narrow embankment. Her breathing was labored, face damp with sweat. Sticks and leaves stuck out at various angles in her bright hair and there was a smudge of dirt across her chin. She paused to catch her breath, looking behind her anxiously. 

Damn. Who'd have expected to run into a band of Bogles so far up the mountain? She'd stupidly stumbled into their camp, though who was more surprised was still up for argument. A hasty retreated hadn't shaken their anger at the sudden intrusion, and now she found herself being chased by at least fourteen animalistic humanoids.

Usually the creatures weren't so tenacious, but apparently they'd noticed the scarceness of game as well. Too bad Bogles weren't beneath eating humans, if the circumstances were desperate enough.

She wasn't overly worried. Bogles were never much of a problem, though the number of them was cause for a bit of concern. Thankfully, the monsters were slow and dim-witted, so she hadn't had to engage them as of yet. Eventually, they'd tire of the chase once they discovered that catching her was going to be too big of a task.

Or she hoped…

Nel could hear them behind her, trudging through the underbrush like heavy footed lizards. Occasionally a loud bark would break the natural silence of the forest as they communicated in their odd, guttural language. Stealth wasn't their forte, but it kept her aware of where they were.

She needed a quick way to discourage them.

Glancing about, taking quick survey of her surroundings, Nel spied a tall ridge above her head. It was too far to jump, but the rock was just weathered enough to allow her small hands to have some gripping action. Scaling the side would be tricky, but she was light enough that it shouldn't be much of a problem.

Tucking her daggers beneath her clothes, she pulled on one of her leather gloves and reached up for the first protruding stone. Once her feet had a decent footing, she pulled herself up, bearing down on her finger tips.

At the top of her climb, she grit her teeth and hauled herself over the ledge. Her arms were trembling and every muscle in her upper body seared with a burning pain. Somehow, she managed to pull herself away from the edge as the first Bogle appeared in the clearing below.

Lying silent, Nel peered over the edge, watching as the creature turned his nose into the wind. He looked over his shoulder and made a quick bark, and several replies came quickly from somewhere in the trees. Nel wished she knew what they were saying, but she didn't need to speak their language to understand them this time.. Bogles had great sense of smell and hearing. The big one below probably figured out where she'd got to already, but was having a difficult time deciding on how to haul his big body up the mountain. She had to find a way to throw them off and fast.

Scooting back along the ground, she reached the wall of rock and stood, just out of sight. The rest of the cliff was sheer and there was no place for her to climb, but luck would have it that there was a small opening just off to her left. A cave of sorts. She didn't like the idea of boxing herself in, but it was far to small for the Bogles to come in all at once. If they came after her one at a time, she could easily pick them off with her daggers and runology.

Getting down on her belly, Nel pushed her way into the cave. Surprisingly enough, the inside was monstrously cavernous, as if the entire top of the mountain was hollow. The dim light from the outside made deep shadows along the walls, which glinted with veins of some sort of strange ore. The air was heavy, musty, but oddly humid. There were no stalactite or stalagmite formations that she could see. They cave appeared to be dry, or dead, though the damp air made her think that somewhere inside there was a water source.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her glowstone. The cavern was suddenly a striking contrast of light and dark. She was surrounded by stone and that strange, gleaming ore. There was no moss or lichen to be seen, though she was certain the scent of stale water was mingled with the musty odor of the cave. The ground was pebbly and undisturbed. No animals or people had been inside recently.

Stepping deeper, the shadows shifted and she noticed a wide path that led downwards into a gaping maw of darkness. She frowned, wondering how such a worn, obvious trail had made its way inside the mountain. An old mining shaft perhaps? No, that didn't seem right. There were no tracks and the peculiar ore was so abundant, excavation was unlikely.

The sound of falling rocks and loud snarls made her jump. The Bogles were trying to make their way up the cliff. With no where else to go, Nel drew her long dagger and started down the pathway.

* * *

The trail was like a spiraling staircase. Around and around it went, her footsteps echoing off the lonely walls. The ore seemed to grow richer the deeper she went, glittering in jagged lines like miniature rainbows. She'd never seen anything like it before. Whatever it was, it wasn't any sort of mineral or stone she was familiar with. The humidity grew even more oppressive and somewhere up ahead she could hear the sound of water running, as if from a faucet. 

The path widened and flattened out as she ducked though a low arch way. Nel found herself inside another cavern, not quite as open, but still impressive. As she stepped to the center, her mouth opened in awe.

The room was almost solid crystal and with the light of the glow stone, reflected every color of the spectrum in an array of geometric patterns. Prisms as wide as she was tall jutted out from the walls like massive spear heads. Druzy and pyramidal specimens, starting from the size of her fist to as large as her head, protruded from the dusty floor. Most of the cavern was structured by twinned minerals, creating a rough, yet beautiful texture along the wide veins throughout the walls.

Like carved ice in the center of the room was a fountain comprised of three prisms and two basins. The thing was huge, almost five times Nel's height and at least twice her width. Water poured from openings she couldn't see and disappeared into a steep canal. On the far wall next to another archway was a piece of smoothed granite. Inside the perfect rectangle were carefully carved runes.

Nel walked along the narrow dike that ran next to the flowing water. She gazed up at the runes and frowned. Touching them, she frowned. They looked similar to the ones she wore on her body, but she couldn't read them.

What was this place? A ruin or shrine?

She couldn't begin to guess. She sensed no magic in the air, but the water seemed to come from nowhere, just like the Sacred Orb back in Kaddan. What had Maria called it? An OPA? Well, the likely hood of two such things on Elicoor was impossible, if she understood what the blue haired woman said correctly. They were supposedly rare.

She looked back over her should to the fountain. Something had obviously created it, but who or what? And the runes too. During some point in history, someone had hollowed out the mountain and created this…this place. But for what purpose?

The echoing sound of falling rocks made Nel spin about. Bless the Bogles and their clumsiness. She was a bit shocked they'd followed her so far. Probably urged on by the scent of water. She ran her hand over the runes once more and then turned to duck under the next archway, not noticing when the strange writing began to gleam faintly.

* * *

Albel was reclining against the bank of the pool, his arms outstretched on either side, his head tilted back and eyes closed. Under a shrub close by, his clothes were neatly folded, the Crimson Scourge tucked carefully away in its sheath. 

The water was chilly, biting even, but once used to it, it wasn't so bad. He was so filthy he wouldn't had cared if the pond had been stagnant and full of toads. Anything to wash the blood, grit, and sweat from his body.

He was enjoying the soothing quiet of the forest, the sound of running water lulling him into a half doze when a rock fell on his head.

He jumped to the center of the pool, yelping in pain. Holding his skull, he scowled upward at the overhanging cliff. Several more rocks rained down missing him by inches. "What the hell?" he growled, wading through the chest deep water and closer to his sword.

A shrill yell made his head snap back around. His eyes widened as the entire overhang gave way and he only had moments to cover his head with both arms.

Nel's flailing body crashed into Albel, knocking them both under the surface of the pool. She came up sputtering, blinded by the water and stunned by the cold. She had no idea what broke her fall, but she couldn't be more thankful that she wasn't splattered all over the rocks.

Apparently the ridge couldn't bear the weight of herself and four adult Bogles. When they ran out of the cave, the entire cliff gave way, sliding down the steep face of the mountain. She'd been on the very edge and managed to leap out of the way while the Bogles were caught up in the small landslide.

Bogles! She looked back up to where she'd ran out of the cave and noticed several of he animals peering down at her. She reached for her dagger, wondering if they'd be tenacious enough to come down after her. She'd had about enough of them…

A hand grabbed her from behind, slamming her face into the cold mud. Instantly frightened, she strained against her captor's grip, trying to look behind her to see what held her down. The body above her was bigger and heavier, the weight immobilizing her completely.

"Move and I slit your throat," came an angry snarl.

Nel's eyes opened wide. "Albel?"

The grip on her neck lessened enough so she could look back. Albel was trying to blink the grit from his eyes, his face full of confusion.

"Zelpher?"

Relieved, Nel pushed herself up and he let her go. Those Bogle had chased for almost the entire day until they managed to corner her near the exit. She'd had a horrible afternoon. Her game was gone, her clothes were dirty, and muscles she didn't even know she had ached like the devil. "Yeah, it's me," she replied sourly.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Albel snapped, rubbing an eye with the heel of his hand.

"Me? What do you think you're doing, trying to kill me like that? Don't you even look to see who you're attacking?"

Albel scowled through watering eyes. "I'd look…if I could see, you idiot. I wasn't quite expecting the mountain to fall on my head…"

Nel stared at him for a moment. "Oh…"

"Oh? Is that all you can say? What were you doing up there?" He reached down and splashed some water into his face, trying to sooth his reddened eyes.

Nel pointed at the cliff but the Bogles were gone. Apparently they'd gotten one look at Albel and disliked the odds. Maybe they were smarter than they looked. "I had Bogles chasing me all day," she explained irritably. "I ended up in some weird cave and they…" Her eyes followed his hands scooping up the clear water and her mouth snapped shut, face growing red.

He was naked. Completely and totally bare as the day he was born. She was so close she could see the pale line of hair that ran from his navel and beneath the surface of the waist deep water. Water that was…pure as crystal. Hell, she could even see his…toes…if she looked hard enough. "Oh my god," she whispered, wrenching away her eyes to stare at his irritated face.

Albel wiped his face with his forearm, peering over it with narrowed eyes. "What?" he grumbled, growing increasingly annoyed with the ruby haired woman. When she gaped at him, he frowned. Gods, she was so red even her ears were the color of a blacksmiths fire. Where all Aquarians as strange as she was?

Nel looked away suddenly, her face tightening into a hard mask that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Albel…I think you should get dressed."

He looked down at himself, growing quiet. Oh. He'd totally forgotten during all the excitement. His mouth screwed into a strange, uncomfortable line. He finally found his arrogance and turned, but the pinkening of his cheeks gave away his embarrassment. "Like you haven't seen a man before," he replied, his voice holding a bit of uncertainty.

Nel glanced at his back, about to tell him to mind his own business but the twin scars on his shoulder blades made her stop. They were large, the length of her palm and gleamed with a waxy shine against his natural skin. Most warriors had marks of battle upon their bodies, but these were strange as their placement mirrored one another almost exactly. The one on the right was a bit closer to his spine and a tad lower, but the difference wasn't easily noticeable. Not when someone knew what they were looking at.

Something had pierced him instead of slashed him.

And whatever made those scars wasn't random. The wounds were calculated and precise.

Now that she thought about it, there were two more marks just below his collar bone. She'd noticed them when they were arguing in the pool, but was too distracted to pay much attention. They weren't as wide nor as long, but Nel was willing to bet that the ones on the front belonged with the ones on the back.

She turned back around when he waded out of the water. There was a brief rustling of fabric as he pulled on his pants and boots. Her embarrassment faded within her curiosity. She found herself wondering if he had similar scars upon his body and was tempted to peek as he dressed.

What had happened to him? Who was fast enough and strong enough to catch the lightening quick Albel Nox and run him through not once, but twice?

She was afraid she already knew the answer.

Romero…

She jumped when Albel's tattered cloak smacked her in the face. She fumbled with the heavy cloth, trying to keep it from getting soaked. He stood on the shore in just his suede pants and mesh undershirt, an awkward scowl on his face.

"You might want to cover up too," he stated as she climbed out of the pool.

"Huh?" Nel asked, gasping when his eyes drifted to her chest for a second. She whirled away, clutching the cloak to her breasts, her face heating up.

Behind her, Albel chuckled lightly. "Water's cold, isn't it?"

Nel cast him a nasty look as she pinned the fabric around her shoulders. "Oh? Is that your excuse then?" she jabbed back. She smirked when his wry smiled faded.

"What's that suppose to mean?"

* * *

_Quick update! Yay! Another transitional chapter…sorry 'bout that, but as a few of you said, it must be done. I realized I didn't thank you guys last time! I felt bad…So double thank you this time around. As always, your comments and input are most appreciated! Oh, go check out the translations I did on a SO3 story called "Creation GO!" It's hilarious (I thought so anyway)! You'll see the link in my bio._


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

By: Zosocrowe

_Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time  
I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create  
a silly fan story. I have no money either_

4/2/05

* * *

Tup'ni was a small village, though almost double the size of Plum. The town was a zigzag of crossroads, the main epicenter located at the highest peak. All the buildings were made of stone, carved out of the very mountain the city sat on. The roofs were thatched with tall brick chimneys and all the doors were made of heavy oak or soft pine. There was a large market and inn near the town gate, which indicated that Tup'ni was used to visitors, being as it was the first village outside the Rebyc Plains. 

The people were friendly enough, but their smiles didn't quite reach their eyes. There was an air of suspicion and caution about them, though Nel couldn't hardly blame them. She and the others felt the same way when they first entered the town, unsure of what to expect. She was actually surprised at how busy the village was. People of all ages and distinctions bustled about, doing their daily chores or selling their wares on the fairway. Everywhere she looked, things were in constant motion and somehow the activity soothed her. There was nothing mysterious or ominous about Tup'ni. Other than the large crowds, it was appeared to be a rather ordinary place.

Albel left to check them into the inn. He insisted on staying the night, grumbling something about bath, food, and bed. In that order. Nel didn't argue. She lost the battle back at the pool that horrible day. She would never admit it, but he'd been right, and she wasn't about to turn down a real meal, hot bath, and soft bed at this point.

"Lady Nel?"

Nel turned to look at Rusia. The woman looked as if she was about to drop in her tracks. There were dark circles under her eyes and the fine brown hair she kept neatly tucked into a bun at her nape was coming undone. She was made of tough stock, but traveling was far different than farming. It took a special breed to endure long journeys, and Rusia wasn't one of them.

"You look exhausted," Nel said, casting a sympathetic look her way.

Rusia shook her head, clasping her hands in front of her. "Oh no, Lady Nel! I'm fine. The climb was a bit tedious, but it wasn't that bad."

Nel smiled at the woman's politeness. "Well, you should get some rest. Leylan too." She glanced over to the boy, who was sitting up on his nag. His eyes were closed, but he was awake. His consciousness still drifted, but it was a big improvement. Nel was constantly worried about the strain of their travel on his weakened body, but Leylan proved to be as resilient as he was courageous. A solid rest and some medicinal herbs would do him a world of good.

"Why don't you two catch up with Albel at the inn and take a break?"

Rusia gave Nel a worried frown. Albel wasn't exactly the most cordial when it came to interacting with the two villagers. He made no pretense about hiding his distrust of them, nor did he pretend to see them as equals. Rusia was treated like a servant, and Leylan, well, he had the luck of being asleep most of the time, but occasionally Albel would aim a snarky remark his way.

"Don't worry, Rusia," Nel reassured her. "It's nothing personal. Albel is like that with everyone."

"Not with you," the older woman replied. "But I suppose it's because he sees you as an equal."

Nel almost laughed. "I think you've got that wrong! Albel doesn't see anyone as his equal. I've only known him longer. That's all."

Smiling slightly, Rusia gave a slight shrug. "Maybe so. But these days he looks at you differently."

The good natured smile nearly fell from Nel's face, but she managed to keep it intact. "Ah…I haven't noticed," she said quickly. "He's probably just brooding over something I said." Like making fun of his manhood, maybe? Truth be told, ever since that day, the two of them had shared nothing more than awkward, agitated glances at one another. There'd been very little conversation between them.

"I don't think that's it," Rusia replied, tapping a finger to her chin. "Under that fierce frown of his, he appears to be worried."

Worried?

Nel frowned.

What in the world could possibly make him worry about _her_? "I think you're tired, Rusia," Nel remarked with good natured humor. "Lack of sleep is making you delusional." She pointed in the direction of the inn and handed the reins of Leylan's nag to her. "Go get some rest. Albel will see to the lum and horse. I'm going to pick up some supplies and find some medicine for Leylan." She gave a wave of her hand and nudged the older woman away. "I'll see you in a little while."

* * *

Albel was in the small barn behind the inn, untacking the lum. He wrenched on a strap with his talons with far more force than needed, snapping it in his hand. Disgusted, he tossed it to the floor with a hiss. Since when had it become his job to play stable boy? He had better things to do than be responsible for menial tasks. Like getting himself a hot meal. And a warm bath…one with a roof…and locking door… 

His cheeks grew warm and another strap snapped in his hand. Dammit! What was the matter with him? He threw the strip of leather down and scowled at it. Cheap Aquarian saddles. Why Woltar insisted on importing from them was beyond him. Everything that came out of that stupid country was irritating.

"Bah," he grumbled, yanking the now useless tack from the back of his lum. The animal turned its head, ears flicking in curiosity. "What are you looking at?" Albel barked, but the equine just stared back at him. After a few moments, the beast shook its shaggy mane and snorted.

Great. Now even the animals were laughing at him.

The stable door opened and Albel looked up. Rusia came forward timidly, wringing her small, yet weathered hands. "Master Albel?" she called, her voice trembling.

Narrowing his eyes, Albel stepped out of the paddock. His sudden appearance made the woman jump and he curled his lip at her. "Well?" he asked with a great impatience.

Rusia inched back a few steps, averting her eyes. "Umm…Mistress Nel has already left. I couldn't catch her," she stammered.

Albel stared at his messenger for a moment. Figures. Zelpher never wasted any time dallying when she had things to get done. "Doesn't matter," he muttered, turning to look at the broken saddle he'd deposited next to the stable wall. "I have to seek out a leather smith anyway."

Confused, Rusia grew bold enough to peer around him and look at the object of his ire. "Master Albel, if you need something from one of the stores…ah…perhaps I can retrieve it for you?" Her voice wavered with uncertainty and nervousness.

Studying her, Albel pondered her offer a moment then shook his head. "No. I'll do it myself. It'll get done right that way. Now be gone, wench." He watched with a frown as Rusia swallowed and beat a hasty retreat.

He didn't like the two villagers. Especially the woman. Her quietness made him edgy, her willingness to do anything she was told annoyed him. She was too amiable, like a politician or courtier. Her eyes bothered him the most. They were intelligent and alert behind that cowed look she always wore. She was always watching them, alert to what they were doing. The Aquarian hadn't noticed, but Albel was accustomed to prying eyes. People watched him constantly, especially when they thought he wasn't looking.

The only reason he tolerated Rusia and Leylan presence was because of Nel's insistence. She seemed to think the two Plumians were of no concern, just hapless victims of a horrible occurrence. Oh, and the boy had saved her life, though Albel had his reservations about that as well. For the time being, he would bide his time and see what they were up to, but he'd already settled on a solution if he was given even the slightest hint they were betrayers. He would cut them down. Immediately.

Without words, the woman seemed to understand.

Good.

Because he hated explaining things.

Hoisting the heavy saddle onto his shoulder, Albel gave the lum a final glance. They ignored him, heads busy inside their feed troughs, filling their bellies on molasses grain and oats.

Lucky bastards.

* * *

Head down, Nel waded through the villagers, travelers, and merchants, mumbling to herself about the importance of city planning and population control. Tup'ni was crowded and the layout of the city was like trying to find her way through a labyrinth of streets and alleyways. Everywhere she looked there appeared another intersection or a cross street that led to a dead end. 

She paused in the street, squinting at the map a kind old man drawn for her. Was she supposed to be on this level or the one just below? She wasn't sure. Each sector of town was divided by various ridges, putting the town on levels accessed only by crude pulley systems and rope bridges.

All she needed to find was an outfitter who sold the supplies she wanted. The one shop she found on the highest level, right down the street from then inn, catered to only inventors and merchants. She didn't need bulk supply, but bought some cooking supplies because the owner, the old man, was gracious enough to give her map. A badly drawn map.

Still frowning at the paper she stepped onto the sidewalk, not noticing the door that swung open and caught her in the shoulder. She landed hard on her backside, jarring all the bones in her body. Her map fluttered back into the street, trampled by the feet of the other wayfarers.

"Are you alright, miss?"

A hand appeared in front of her face, palm outstretched in a helping gesture. Nel stared at it a moment then let her eyes travel up the arm and to the owners face.

A young man with long hair the color of a raven's wing gazed down at her with worried blue eyes. His face was fair, probably the fairest she'd ever seen in a man. If it wasn't for his voice, she'd almost think him a woman. His nose was dainty and upturned, his mouth a bit too wide for his face, but provocative none the less. Both brows were streaks of gracefully arched ebony on his brow. From his ears hung gold hoops that gleamed in the sunlight and about his neck was a choker of radiant gemstones, much like the ones she'd seen inside that strange cave.

A line formed across Nel's brow. She narrowed her eyes, shifting her head slightly to catch the light from a different angle. Sure enough, the crystals shone with multiple colors, sparkling like confetti in the sun.

"Um…Miss?"

Nel took her eyes off the strange stones, face flushing with embarrassment. Why was she staring? Maybe those gems were common among the wealthy in Greeton. The young man before her certainly looked and dressed like he was well bred. His pants were fine silk trousers the color of cream and his coat was a high quality wool, dyed royal blue and trimmed with white. The nails on his hands were manicured, and there were several rings of gold, some with jewels the size of her pinky nail.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I was just a bit dazed. I wasn't watching where I was going."

The man shook his head and smiled apologetically. "No. It was my fault. I should have never rushed out of the store like that. Please, forgive me." He reached down without asking and took her by the arm, helping her to stand.

Nel thanked him and brushed herself off. Suddenly, she remembered her map and began looking about her feet. The strange man leaned down and picked up a tattered piece of paper. Handing it to her, he gave a sheepish smile, "I presume this is what you're looking for?"

Taking the piece of paper, Nel heaved a sigh. "Yes. Thank you." Well, it wasn't as if she was having much luck reading it anyway. On to plan two. Scour the town on her own accord and hope she could find what she was looking for before nightfall.

The man's brows pulled together, his lips forming a long line. "This is all my fault. Can I help you somehow? If you don't mind me saying, you look a bit lost."

Shaking her head and casting a grim smile, Nel replied, "No, no. Don't bother yourself. It's nothing."

"From the look on your face, I would have to say it was something. You aren't from around here, are you?" He crossed his arms and looked at her expectantly, a hip cocking to bear the weight of his slender frame.

Alarm bells went off in Nel's head. Her eyes jerked to meet his steady gaze. Greeton had their own spies, and granted, most of the military and political forces were non-human, the chances were good that there were a few human affiliates. This man was too articulate to be a villager from the area. He was also obviously well to do. Stealing a glance at his choker, she managed to hide her suspicion and replied, "You don't look like you are either."

The man laughed, a sound that ran down her skin like liquid. She shivered and folded the pieces of her map into a small square. "You're right," he said, still chuckling. "My name is Don'yoku T'nelovläm," informing her with a sweeping bow. "My home is in Mota, but I am currently traveling to the continent of Gaitt."

"That's quite a name," Nel replied, a bit overwhelmed by his exuberance.

"Yes, well, it is a family name. Most people call me T'nel," he said with a grin.

Nel smiled cryptically. "The journey to Gaitt must be tedious. Do you go alone?"

T'nel shook his head, his long hair falling across his shoulders. "No. I have family in Peterny and am traveling with another group of merchants there. Unfortunately, due to the trouble in the valley, we have become delayed for the time being."

Pretending to be concerned, Nel inquired. "Trouble? You mean the villages disappearing?"

T'nel nodded, his face growing solemn. "Yes. So unfortunate. I heard that several days ago, the township of Plum was razed to the ground. Not a soul left alive." They shared an uncomfortable moment of silence and T'nel cleared his throat. "So what of you, m'lady? Where do you come and go to?"

Thinking fast, Nel replied, "I'm traveling to Citobor from Aquios to see family as well."

T'nel gave her a strange look, a flicker of a frown passing over his face. "Aquios? Are you royalty?" He took in her attire with one sweep of his eyes.

"No, we're of the studious persuasion. My uncle is a scholar and is studying mechanics in the capital, my father thought it wise to have me work with him for a few months. I'm not much of a traveler though, as you can see." She gave him her best demure and hapless look, hoping to deter any suspicions he might have.

"An intellectual? How intriguing! Here in Greeton, pardon me saying, it thought best that most women not use their wits." Nel glared at him and T'nel held his hands up defensively. "I don't agree of course! The gods only know that my sisters and mother are far smarter and more clever than I can ever hope to be!"

Nel relaxed somewhat. It was bad enough traveling with a Glyphian, the embodiment of sexism, but having to hear it from a complete stranger was more than she could handle. "I have to get going," she said suddenly.

T'nel's smile faded slightly. "Oh! I'm babbling aren't I? I do that sometimes…pretty women make me nervous." He scratched his head and looked down at his shiny leather boots.

With an disbelieving look, Nel arched her brows. Somehow, she doubted that. He was prettier than most pretty women. "I really have to get going." She turned to leave, walking several paces away, then stopped to get her bearings.

"Are you sure you don't need help?" T'nel called after her.

Nel stifled a sigh. She was lost. Looking over her shoulder, she replied, "Can you direct me to an outfitter?"

T'nel's face seemed to light up. He moved quickly to her side, taking her arm before she could move away. "Of course. I've been here many times! Let me escort you. This place can be rough in areas, and a lady shouldn't travel alone."

Nel managed to get her arm free and stepped away. The cheerful man wasn't going to take no for an answer. "You're help would be most welcome, though I can walk on my own," she said.

Amused, T'nel smiled, showing a hint of teeth for the first time. "Of course. Right this way," he stated, extending a long arm. Nel shook her head and the young merchant grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets.

For a several blocks they walked. T'nel yammered on about his life as a merchant's son and all the places he had traveled. He was a horrible flirt, but courteous enough to keep his distance after Nel made it clear her personal space was important. Nel listened intently, but not out of any interest she held in him. She was looking for information, clues that would aid her mission. Merchants were knowledgeable about cities and ports, as well as government and politics. Like most, T'nel, enjoyed talking and would share any juicy tidbit they'd heard with little or no prompting.

As they turned down a narrow alley, T'nel grew quiet for a moment, long enough for Nel to cast a curious glance his way. "You know, you haven't given me your name yet," he finally said in a thoughtful tone.

* * *

Albel stepped out of the leather shop and rolled his stiff shoulder. He hadn't expected to have to carry the heavy tack clear across town and back again just to find a place to have it repaired. The prices everywhere were outrageous. Five hundred just to fix the two small leather pieces and another two hundred to have it done by tomorrow morning. And he'd thought the merchants in Airyglyph where conniving cheats. 

Sadly, he wasn't done shopping yet. Beneath his cloak he flexed his claw. The joints were stiff and without looking he knew the edge of his blades were dull. He needed some lubricant and cleaning supplies. He doubted Tup'ni had the typical items he preferred, but he'd have to make due, as his saddle pack was probably ash on the wind somewhere in the vicinity of Plum by now.

Staring down the street, he squinted against the glare of the sun. Tup'ni was a catastrophe. He couldn't make heads or tails of where he was or where he was suppose to go. Not only that, but the people…there were maggots everywhere. He expected crowds in large merchant cities, like Peterny, but not in some backwater spit hole on the top of an obscure mountain. It was ridiculous.

A glimmer of red caught his attention and he turned his head just in time to see Nel disappear down a side street. Beside her was a person he didn't recognize. A woman with long black hair. No. The shoulders were too broad, hips to narrow. A man? A fellow spy, perhaps?

No, there were no Aquarian spies in Tup'ni. If there had been, Zelpher wouldn't have been so adamant about detouring, especially considering their current situation. Instantly, Albel was angry. Days of lecturing him about the importance of discretion, the need for secrecy, and what does he find her doing? Playing tourist with the first pretty face she happens to come across. All business his ass…

Apparently he didn't know her as well as he thought he did.

Stalking into the street, his feet carrying him in the direction she'd disappeared, Albel scowled at his irritation. Who was he kidding? He didn't know anything about the Aquarian. Not personally, at least. The only thing he'd ever bothered to catalog in his memory about her were the things she did to annoy him. The list was long. What else was there to know?

_She had nice breasts_.

Albel nearly stumbled as the stray though flittered through his brain, gliding over his anger like a stray bird in a storm. Where had that come from? Nel Zelpher was hardly the type of female he, or any man, would fantasize over. A glacier was warmer than that woman could ever possibly hope to be and any man who lay with her was likely to have either his most sensitive parts freeze off or be nagged to death by her relentless pestering.

What a terrifying thought.

He'd stick to warm women with little to say. That suited him just fine.

Stopping, Albel shook his head, trying to chase the silent monolog buzzing in his skull. Why was he thinking of such things? Time had passed since he'd last felt the comforts of a woman, but he didn't think it had been _that_ long. Not so long that he'd find such a brute as Zelpher interesting…or even attractive.

Admittedly, his dealings with the opposite sex were few and far between as of late. His attention was preoccupied with other things, none of which had to do with his body's needs and wants. Perhaps he had neglected himself over excessively this time. He was a man, after all. His mind, no matter where his concentration lay, would eventually wander to simpler, less complicated things. It was nature's way, unfortunatly.

What a bother. He'd done so well until now. Well, his hormones would have to wait a while longer. There was a mission to be completed. Then the mess with the demons to clear up. If he survived that, he made a promise to himself that he would spare a few hours of his time to seek out some frivolous noble woman to take the edge off.

Feeling better, he stared at the place he'd last seen Nel, his desire to follow after her dissipating like vapor. "Hn," he grumbled, turning on a heel and starting back the way he came. He had things to do. What the Aquarian did with her time was of no interest to him.

Something solid hit him between his shoulder blades, pitching him forward on his toes. He turned quickly, his hand reaching for his katana. With narrowed eyes, he scanned the crowded street, but it was a brightly colored ball rolling about his feet that caught his eye. Frowning, he bent over and picked it up, turning it over in his hand.

A child stared at him from the alleyway that Nel and the stranger had gone down. The boy was small, not more than five or six. His hair was a shaggy mass of dark brown and tufts of unkempt bangs fell across large, deep brown eyes. He stuck a finger into his mouth, worrying the end of it as he stared back at Albel.

An orphan, no doubt, considering his filthy clothes made of moth eaten wool and oily burlap. Albel wasn't surprised. All cities, no matter how big or small, had their fare share of unfortunate street urchins. Tucking the ball under his arm, he made his way to the corner where the boy stood. The child craned his head up as Albel peered down at him and held the toy out, saying, "Is this yours?"

The boy nodded slightly, shoving his finger deeper into his mouth. He made no move to take back his play thing and Albel frowned at the boy's curious stare. Most children ran and hid from him, be it his reputation or tall stature that frightened them. "Be more careful," he said, his tone gruff. He dropped the ball near the boy's feet and turned to leave.

"Aren't you going to save her?"

Albel froze mid-step, all the fine hairs on his neck standing erect. He looked over his shoulder at the doe eyed child. "What?" he asked carefully.

Popping his finger from his lips, the boy leaned down and picked up his toy. "You made a promise. A promise to protect her," he said. As he stood up, he wiped his mangy hair from his eyes.

Slowly, Albel turned, trying to keep the shock off his face. "Save who? Protect what?" His voice was harsh as he forced the questions from his throat. "What are you babbling about?"

The look the boy gave him was incredulous, an expression a child his age shouldn't understand. "You said you'd protect her," he said, pointing a tiny hand in the direction Nel had gone. Albel's eyes followed his gesture, and the boy finished, "Just like you did mama."

A jolt seared though Albel, coursing down his spine and through his limbs. The blood in his body turned to ice and he jerked his eyes back to the place the child stood.

But he was gone.

Vanished.

* * *

_Ah…sorry for the long delay. I took a break. I needed one, as hectic and hellish as things have been around here. Thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. As always, I appreciate your feedback and comments. Thanks for sticking with me as I plow though this story and snail's pace. Ha ha! I'll try to get back on my usual schedule, but the way things are looking, updates MIGHT be more sporadic. We'll see! Thanks again! Until next time, take care!_


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

By: Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create

a silly fan story. I have no money either

4/22/05

* * *

Albel could hear the drumming of his heart in his ears as his gaze careened wildly. A cool layer of dampness trickled down his spine as it oozed from his skin, and with a trembling hand he reached for his katana. 

That boy--that boy with the dark eyes and brunette hair--he'd seen him before. He'd seen that very same gaze staring back at him from his mother's mirror. Those eyes were his; the shape, the tilt, even the color was the same as his once was, before they changed to the wine red all Nox heirs inherited. But it wasn't just himself he saw; he was only half of a whole. The hair and eyes belonged to him, but the lips were too full and mouth not nearly as wide, and the face was too thin, cheek bones too high. Those features belonged to his dead wife.

Kaine.

His son's name pierced him like a stiletto. The screaming. He could still hear the screaming--that horrible, terrified wailing. Cries that changed, turning to ragged, piercing shrieks of pain. The sound made his heart tremble and his limbs go numb. A panic so raw, so instinctive, seized him but he was--helpless. He couldn't stop it. He could only listen. Then came the silence--a sudden, thunderous silence.

Albel covered his face with his hand, steeling himself against the memories that burned and threatened to devour him. His son was dead. The brat's life ended barely five months from the womb; there wasn't anything he could do about it now. That apparition was a trick, Romero's way of baiting him into a blind rage. The demon took him for a fool. That child specter was too old to be his son. Souls, if there were such things, did not age. Besides, his son had no reason to help him. He'd let the boy die. He was responsible for letting that child's life be snatched away before there was even a chance of living. If the roles were reversed and he was in Kaine's place, he'd want to see his killer suffer.

"Hurry."

The boy stood at the end of a narrow passage holding his ball between two small hands. His youthful gaze was steady and empty as he watched Albel peer out between splayed fingers.

"Who are you?" Albel asked in a ragged voice. He dropped his hand back to his katana and glared at the child defiantly. "What sort of game is this?"

The boy cocked his head to the left, eyes unblinking. His small mouth opened to reply but something caught his attention. A look of fear passed over his small features. "She's in trouble," he said and darted off around the corner.

"Hey! Wait!" Albel shouted, giving chase. As he turned down the next alley, the boy was already gone. The sound of pattering feet caught his attention. The footfalls were distant, yet consistent, as if they were meant for him and only him to hear. With a curse, Albel drew his sword and began to follow the sound.

* * *

Nel was silent as she followed T'nel through the labyrinth of brick and mortar walls. The hustle of the city was but a drone of ambiguity behind them now. The back streets were empty, save a stray cat and piles of disorganized, wooden boxes scattered here and there. 

She'd known for quite sometime that there was no outfitter--nor was T'nel who he said he was. She followed him anyway, smiling and nodding when he happened to pass a comment her way.

He was a demon. The moment he'd asked for her name, she knew where his power lay. His voice had held a thread of quiet contemplation that probed the inner-most sanctuary of her soul; it reminded her of an itch that couldn't be scratched. When she'd looked into his eyes, she saw past the genuine smile and into the eagerness and anticipation. It took all her will not to shudder outwardly.

He wanted her name. Names held power. They were important. If he had her name, he could control her--just like the people of Plum. He was Avarice. Greed. One of Romero's lackeys.

She wasn't frightened of him. She was more disappointed at her revelation. Demons were suppose to be hideous creatures, monsters that snapped spittle down long fangs and lashed pointed tails at their enemies. An ignorant assumption her part, she supposed. Humans tended to associate evil and danger with ugly things, when in reality, death often wore a costume of beauty and grace. If all demons were as Avarice, Nel could understand how the people of Plum fell into his trap.

She thought of the burning village and the people. Avarice had preyed on their desperation and ignorance. He'd hunted them down and lured them into his net like tiny fishes. The demon had manipulated their fears, twisting them to fit his own selfish pleasure. It was all so meaningless; so pointless. All that death for what? A laugh? It made her sick.

"We've been walking for quite sometime," she said. "Is it much further?"

"Patience, m'lady," T'nel replied with a chuckle. "This trek is just a means to an end."

Nel arched a brow. How eloquently put. Apparently demons enjoyed word games. She wondered how he would react to directness. "So, did Romero send you or are you still angry we spoiled your fun back in Plum?" She spoke as if she was making friendly conversation.

T'nel stopped moving and so did Nel, except her dagger was poised at the middle of his spine. There was a brief pause before the demon cast a slight smile over his shoulder. "I'm impressed," he said. "Though you should know that little knife of yours won't do much good on me."

Nel returned his smile with a grim one of her own. She pressed the blade, piercing his clothes. His back bowed as the tip struck his skin and his smile wilted around the edges. "Maybe not," Nel said, "but you don't seem to be too eager to test that theory yourself. I'd wager you demons feel pain and fear just like the rest of us…Avarice."

A tick leapt along Avarice's jaw. He scowled openly, lip curling into a snarl. "Stupid mortal. I thrive on pain and fear." He was fast, his movements almost a blur as he ducked away from Nel's knife and spun on her. His waxy hand caught her wrist in a crushing grip, wrenching her off balance.

Nel was quick too. Using her momentum, she moved into him, instead of away. Startled, Avarice was caught off guard and she clipped him with a kick to the knee that brought him to the ground. In an instant, she had a second knife poised centimeters from a startled eye.

Emotionless, Nel gazed down at the creature. "How disappointing," she said. "I expected more from the monsters that brought down Albel the Wicked."

Anger rolled across Avarice's face, but vanished as quickly as it appeared. His smiled returned, lop-sided and quirky. "You are a wonderful catch," he said. "A temper as fiery as that beautiful hair of yours. I can see why that fool Albel is taken with you. Quite the improvement from that simpering wench he had before."

Nel felt her lips tighten, but she remained stoic. She wouldn't be baited into playing his game. "What do you want with Albel?"

Avarice blinked at her, his long lashes brushing the tip of the dagger. "Albel? Who said I was sent here for that barbarian?" His eyes met hers and Nel shuddered at the excitement that danced in them.

"You're not here for him?"

The demon started to shake his head, but glanced at the dagger and settled for a shrug instead. "Romero said I could have you, since you helped that animal steal my last prize."

"Gave me to…" Nel swallowed, biting back the vile revulsion crawling across her skin. "I don't belong to anyone. Not you. Not Albel. I'm not a prize."

Avarice widened his eyes, looking offended. "That's untrue! You're not as dainty and delicate as the Nox woman, but that fire in your eyes, that temper…." His expression turned thoughtful as Nel gaped at him. "I like a woman who fights back, who enjoys a litt--a lot--of pain." He giggled; closing his eyes as if chasing some twisted daydream. "Alas, they are so hard to come by these days."

"That woman," she whispered. "The one in Plum…"

"Not my best work. A poor replica of the original. I didn't have much time to prepare, once I learned who it was who interrupted my fun, you see." He gave her a gallic shrug. "It served its purpose, I think."

"The original?" You mean…" Nel could feel the horror creeping across her face.

His aloofness faded, revealing the eyes of a keen and deadly predator. His smile stretched across his creamy complexion and a pale pink tongue ran slowly across a pair of dainty fangs. "Lady Nox was a masterpiece," he said, a shiver running over his body. "Her cries were a melodious orchestra. Passionate! Vibrant! Complex! I plucked her body like a harp, tuning it to my own melody." Avarice released a trembling sigh, his eyes sliding shut in memory. "So beautiful. Sadly, she was too delicate of an instrument. She couldn't bear the strain of such a…vigorous song. Shame on Sir Nox for neglecting her so…"

She gazed at him, feeling strangely empty inside. "You…you raped and mutilated her," Nel said, her voice sounding oddly calm. The world seemed to fade behind her as if she was hearing things through a filter of white noise.

"_We_ did--many times," Avarice replied, his grin widening. He ticked a brow at her. "Ask Sir Nox. He was there."

Nel wasn't certain what happened next. Her body seemed to move on its own; her consciousness somewhere else, watching from afar. She drove her knife into the demon's eye, burying it to the hilt. He screamed and pitched backwards, dragging her with him by the grip he still had on her wrist. Nel followed willingly, riding his body into the ground. She heard the bones in her hand break as he crushed them, but there was no pain. Just a hum, a buzz of steady, calm fury.

Fury for all those people. For that woman in Plum. For Albel's wife…and for Albel.

Straddling Avarice, she pulled the knife from his eye and plunged it home a second time. He wasn't dying, just screaming, but for some reason, she wasn't concerned. She wanted him to suffer. She wanted his pain. The longer the better. Her thoughts were irrational and selfish, even dangerous, but none of that mattered to her.

"Bleed," she hissed at him, rearing back for a third blow.

Avarice let go of her other wrist, his shock at her sudden attack gone. He shielded his face with one hand while grappling for her with the other. Nel cut through his palm, pinning his hand to the gaping socket of his eye, her face a picture of terrible peacefulness. She was torn off of him by her hair, his strength enormous, but by the time he'd gotten to his feet, she had already recovered and had another weapon in her good hand.

There was the sound of metal on bone as Avarice reached up and pulled the dagger from his face, freeing his other hand. The blade clattered to the cobbled street and Avarice smiled. "Beautiful!" he said, extending his arms in praise. "I knew you wouldn't disappoint me. No more toying, you must be mine…Karina Zelpher." A haughty smirk shined though his bloodied face and he opened his arms as if to welcome her.

Nel fixed him in a detached stare. "You offer assistance in exchange for a name. That is how your power works. Once a person accepts your help and gives you their name freely, they…belong…to you." She paused, watching a look of uncertainly pass across the demon's face. "It seems you cannot tell a false name from a true one. That--is not my name."

Avarice opened his mouth, then closed it. Finally, his face crumpled into a gory scowl of hate. "Bitch," he snarled, baring his teeth at her.

Nel shrugged, her eyes never leaving his. "I know your power. I know you can bleed and feel pain. I bet you can die too. Your greed made you careless, Avarice." She lifted her good hand, steadying the weapon she held.

"You? Kill me?" Avarice laughed. "Not as easy as you think, human." He spat at her and then wiped the rivulets of blood across his face. "You'll need more than a puny knife to do me in."

Nel felt her lips twist into a thin, contemplative smile. There was no fear; nothing but calmness. Somewhere inside she knew she was angry, but her body felt numb, dead. "Who said I'm going to use a knife?"

Avarice glanced at her hand and his good eye opened wide. He took a stumbling step backwards, fear pacing his mangled features. "You…you'll be killed too," he said.

Nel just smiled. "We'll see," she said.

* * *

An explosion cracked along the mountain-side and a plume of debris launched high into the sky above Tup'ni. For a moment, the steady drone of commerce fell silent; then the city erupted into a frenzied panic. Everywhere people began screaming and running for their homes. Merchants, always astute to their wares, hastily began to close up shop and travelers with no place to go ran for the nearest house, kicking down doors and breaking windows, trying to find a safe place to hide. A few brave townsmen took up arms, preparing themselves to die defending their city--though no one seemed to be in any hurry to investigate the disturbance. 

Albel was making his way though the maze of back-allies when a gust of rock and dust rocketed out of one of the adjoining cross-roads. He leapt back, skidding to a halt, nearly skewered by splinters of wooden shrapnel. When the rain of stones and wood began to fall, he threw his gauntlet over his head to protect himself.

"Shit," he hissed, squinting against the grainy air. Through the haze he could see the faint shimmer of the boy child standing at the apex of the narrow street. He was frowning, his small features a mixture of what Albel thought might be confusion and irritation.

"What the hell was that?" Albel asked.

The boy remained motionless, staring down the corridor. "She's still alive," he said, his voice bordering between wonderment and curiosity.

Albel's pulse leapt. He started to ask, "who", but he already knew the answer. Zelpher was in trouble. "Damn that woman," he said under his breath. She was always taking on more than she could handle. He didn't care if she was the Crimson Blade; she was still a woman and there were certain limitations that women had that men didn't. The fool Aquarian was just too stubborn to admit it.

He thought nothing as he swept past the mysterious child, not even sparing the boy a glance; his body seemed pulled by a string, his footsteps hasty, his heart pounding. The dust in the air sucked the moisture from his throat and left the foul taste of dirt in his mouth. He had to squint against the grit scratching his eyes, which began to water profusely. Everywhere there lay chunks of brick and rock. Boxes used for merchant transport and storage were shattered into pieces of kindling. At least six buildings were gutted; the furthest to the end was on fire, the stench of smoke mingling with the grime in the air.

Amidst the haze, he could see a pale arm streaked with blood pushing out of the rubble. A few moments later, Nel heaved herself from the debris, coughing and staggering to her feet. One arm hung limply at her side, while the other fumbled inside her clothes to produce a dagger, but the weapon tumbled from her grasp and clattered to the ground.

"Zelpher," Albel said, his own voice sounding like an echo in his head. She was hurt, wounded more so than he'd ever seen her, but it was the look of determination, of hatred, on her face that took him aback. He watched as she bent over, her movements pained and slow, to pick up her dropped weapon. When she started to fall, he moved forward and caught her by her uninjured arm, hauling her back to her feet. She looked up at him, her eyes unfocused and pupils dilated. Her mouth opened to speak, but instead, her legs buckled and she swayed, falling into him.

Albel caught her instinctively, but stiffened when her head fell against his shoulder. He stood, breath trapped in his chest, holding the fallen woman as if she was some strange beast. Somehow, he managed to regain his composure and lower them to the ground, careful to keep Nel's head cradled against the shoulder of his gauntlet.

"Nox," Nel whispered, her eyes fluttering open. She tried to sit up, struggling against him, but Albel tightened his grip.

"Stupid woman," he muttered. "What the hell did you do?" He stared down at her filthy face, his brow drawn into a tight frown.

Nel's eyes drifted closed for a moment. "Demon," she said in a voice so low that Albel had to lean over her to hear. "Avarice…Molotov…R1..." She coughed and started to sit up again, but Albel shook his head.

"Avarice?" he asked, keeping his voice even. He felt a spark of fury race through his body, but he managed to reign in his anger, tucking it away in that corner of his brain that seethed with contained rage. He'd expected an affront, but not so soon. "You used a Molotov on Avarice?"

Nel managed a frown. "Is…he dead?"

Albel blinked at her. He was more surprised she'd fought one of Romero's right hand men and survived; he hadn't even thought about the demon being injured. He doubted it, but didn't say so. Demons were like cockroaches. "I don't know," he said. "I don't see him."

Nel's frown deepened and she pushed at his arm. "No," Nel coughed, wincing in pain. "He was here…bleeding…cut out his eye."

Albel's brows arched high. "You did what?" he asked incredulously.

Nel opened her eyes and mustered up the effort to scowl at him. "He's hurt too…I know it."

Albel gave the small woman a long look. Where did she get her strength--her will to keep fighting? He'd never met another woman like her, and he couldn't decide if she was just stupidly stubborn or courageous. He shook his head slightly and sighed. "Just...be quiet. Your arm is broken," he said. "I think you did something to your head too."

He picked Nel up, ignoring her protests, and moved her away from the blast site. He propped her up against one of the far walls and checked her injuries. Her arm and wrist were broken, and he was fairly certain she had a concussion, but the rest of her wounds were mostly minor bumps and scrapes. She would live--unless he lost his temper with her and killed her himself. He wanted to yell at her, tell her what an idiot he thought she was, but for some reason the words just wouldn't come. He didn't think she would hear him anyway; she was struggling just to stay concious. Her wounds weren't life threatening, but she wouldn't be able to heal them herself any time soon. That was troublesome, considering he knew no spells and had no more medicines.

One problem at a time.

Leaving Nel, Albel stood and unsheathed his sword. He doubted Avarice was still present, but he felt compelled to check anyway. Cautiously, he picked his way through the rubble, kicking over planks of wood and nudging large piles of rock with the scabbard of his sword. Smoke was beginning to billow out of the burning building near the end of the street and Albel had to cover his mouth with his arm.

Slowly, he made his way across the explosion site, peering into the destroyed buildings. When he reached the last building, a workshop, he stopped and gazed at the glowing flames eating along the thatched roof. Through the black smoke he could see the fire licking the hardwood floor and beating against the wooden cabinets. Carefully, he stepped inside, staying close to the opening in the wall.

Just beyond the corner, bent awkwardly between two heavy stools, he saw Avarice. The body, or what was left of it, was beginning to burn, the rich clothes melting into skin. All that remained of the demon was his upper torso; everything at the hips had been blown away. One arm was missing, the other badly mangled and riddled with slivers of wood and glass. His face was frozen in a state of shock, one empty eye socket steaming as his body began to cook.

Albel stared at the creature, struggling to find a dominate emotion. Part of him wanted to hack the corpse to pieces, but somehow, this fate seemed more suiting. Another part of him was angry--angry that it hadn't been himself that had dealt the killing blow. The Aquarian had done a much better job at defending herself than he had; she'd even managed to kill one of Romero's main henchmen. And what had he done? Bled and shivered on the floor like a coward while his family was butchered.

The irony was almost funny, but Albel wasn't laughing.

Avarice was dead. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel a sense of satisfaction, regardless of who had killed him. He spat on the ground, watching the spittle sizzle in the flames. "Burn in hell," he said.

"So she really did kill him."

Albel jumped and spun around. The odd boy stood several feet from him, watching the flames consume the body of Avarice. His face was neutral, save the barest hint of a frown at the corners of his lips. "This was unexpected," he said, his small voice holding a inkling of annoyance.

Albel swung his sword around and pointed at the child. "Who are you?" he growled.

The boy shrugged and turned his eyes to Albel. "Just a curious observer."

"You're no child," Albel said, pacing forward.

The boy smiled slightly. "I am what you wish me to be."

"I want you to be gone," he snarled, baring his teeth. He swung his blade at the whelp, cutting nothing but air. The child had vanished--again.

"You have a foul temper."

Albel pivoted, eyes widening as the boy appeared behind him near the open wall. The child gave a slight laugh and gestured in the direction of Nel. "You have more important things to be concerned about, don't you?" Then he was gone, leaving Albel alone with the stink of burning hair and flesh.

* * *

Sorry for the loooong delay. I've been busy and cranky…I don't write well when I'm irritated (as you can see). I did some avatar creation for as a peace offering--they're pretty crappy though (link in my bio). Anyway-- this chapter took a very different direction than I expected. I'm not very happy with it, so don't be surprised if you see a rewrite of it in the near future (no major changes, just edits). Oh, yes I know you can teach Albel healing spells, but for the sake of this fic, he doesn't know any. Thanks once again for reading, and I really appreciate the patience you all have. Take care!


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

By: Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create

a silly fan story. I have no money either.

_5/23/05_

* * *

_Re-uploaded to see if that helps the people who are having difficulty getting chapter 15 to load._

* * *

The clinic was stuffy inside, the small inner office smelling strong of medicinal herbs and stale air. The walls were bare, painted with curling off-white paint that made the room seem even more claustrophobic and stuffy. Albel leaned against the furthest corner, his back to the conjoining walls where he could have full view of the waiting area. Across from him was a shabby door that at one time had probably been bright red, but time had faded it to a dingy pink. 

Nel had gone through that door nearly two hours ago.

Albel shifted his weight, first from one foot, then to the other. He pressed his back against the corner; the frown on his lips actually straining the muscles in his face. He would not start pacing. He wouldn't. There was nothing for him to be concerned about--unless the Aquarian's stupidity was infectious. He was just impatient. He didn't like this country--or rather this continent. It was unfamiliar, different. Fighting battles on foreign territory was always difficult, not that he minded a challenge, but this time the stakes were higher. War had been declared against the demons today. The repercussions would come--and soon.

That stupid woman. She had no idea what she'd done. Hell, he had no idea what she'd done, but nothing good would come from it. That, he was certain of. What had she been thinking? He'd warned her that the demons might make her a target, but now she'd all but painted a bull's-eye on her chest--affiliated with him or not.

Did that make him responsible for what would happen to her now? Albel's frown darkened into a scowl, his eyes sweeping away from the door and across the wooden floor. Zelpher was a grown woman, one capable of making decisions on her own. Albeit, bad ones on occasion, but they were extensions of her own will and not his.

That mattered not to the demons.

Albel pushed away from the corner and strode across the small office on his long legs. There would be no demons if it wasn't for him. None of this would be happening if he'd been man enough to finish the job he'd started so many years ago. How many people under his protection had been hurt, killed, because he was too weak to do his duty?

Protecting people had been a responsibility he'd never wanted. He'd known he wouldn't be good at it; his passion was for fighting and accruing strength, not babysitting the shivering kneed weaklings in his life. However, like a fool, he'd bowed to the pressures of society and taken the oaths his father had wished upon him. Those oaths made him accountable and no twist of logic would change the truth.

But Zelpher wasn't weak. Certainly, she wasn't as strong as him, but the woman had definitely surprised him today. He'd known she was a formidable fighter, but he'd never expected her to stand alone and win against a foe such as Avarice. Was it a fluke? That had to be it. Besides, he wasn't convinced Avarice was truly dead. Still, that didn't mar the fact that Nel had stood against him and won.

Albel made another pass in front of the worn door before he realized he was pacing. With a grumble, he ran his hand through his hair and went back to his corner, tucking himself in between the walls tightly, as if hoping they'd hold him in place.

The street-side door opened and a middle aged man with short black hair peppered with gray stepped inside. He wore a long tunic and a pair of baggy linen pants tucked into shiny leather boots. A bright blue scarf was tied around his neck, held in place by a gaudy gold and ruby broach. Upon spying Albel in the dark corner, he hurried over, his expression almost pained. Without even asking, he reached out and took hold of Albel's forearm, not noticing how the taller man flinched at his touch.

"You must be Sir Maira." He pumped Albel's hand up and down vigorously. "I'm Lord Pasaunt, the governor of Tup'ni." Albel's brow twitched hearing his mother's maiden name, and he vaguely remembered giving it to the one of the local medical attendants earlier in the day. His sur name was too well known, even in Greeton, to give freely. "I wanted to give you my apologies in person in regards to this horrible incident, and assure you that this sort of tragedy isn't common in our fine city," the man continued.

Albel jerked his hand away. He glowered at Pasaunt as he wiped his palm on his cloak and tucked his arm back into the safety of the heavy fabric. "I'm sure it's not," he replied cryptically, hoping the man would go away. The less the Tup'nians questioned them, the less likely the truth was to come out.

Oblivious to Albel's stagnant attitude, Pasaunt spread his hands wide. "Of course it isn't!" he exclaimed. "A workshop exploding like that is unheard of, I assure you! We take great care in the maintenance of our public facilities! Whatever that poor fool we pulled from the rubble was trying to create was obviously against the regular code of safety." He shook his head and grimaced.

Albel remained silent. If the Tup'nians believed it was an accident, so be it. There was no need to cause mass panic. He was fairly certain the demons wouldn't be coming back any time soon. Romero would plan something far more extravagant for them at a later date--that he was sure of. Besides, if things went well, they'd be gone from the city by nightfall.

"We have a wonderful medic here. Your friend will be just fine," Pasaunt was saying. "It was very unfortunate that she happened to be passing by when the accident occurred. If there's anything you need from us, let me know and I'll make sure you get it." He gave a slight chuckle and turned to leave.

Albel looked up. "Supplies."

Pasaunt cocked his head, looking over his shoulder. "Supplies?"

Never one to let an opportunity pass by him, Albel gave a stiff nod. "Enough water and food to get four people through the Rebyc Plains. Medicinal supplies as well. And my steed's saddle needs to be finished by nightfall."

Pasaunt stared at him for a moment before giving him a weak smile. "You sound like you plan on leaving tonight? That's a tall order for a small trading village such as ours."

"You offer hospitality and then deny it?"

Startled at Albel's frankness, Pasaunt shook his head. "No, no. Not at all. It's just that it might take awhile to…"

"Then instead of babbling at me, shouldn't you get started?"

Blinking, Pasaunt hesitated for a moment, then gave a curt nod. "So be it. I'll have the goods you wish for delivered to your hotel before dark." Face stripped of all previous friendliness, the city officiant tossed his scarf over his shoulder and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Technically, the Tup'nian's owed them nothing, but the deceit did nothing to Albel's conscience. He was doing the village a favor by leaving early. The natives would be cannon fodder if the demons decided to come back--not that he cared much about what happened to them, but they'd only get in his way once the fighting became inevitable.

The inner door opened and Albel looked up as a tall, slender woman dressed in white stepped though. She peered at him over the rim of her square spectacles, her tight features almost as unfriendly as his own. "Are you Maira?" she asked.

The tension in Albel's face lessened into surprise. It lasted only a moment before he scowled at her in irritation. "It's _Sir_ Maira," he said.

The woman gave him a dull stare. "Your knighthood isn't important to me. I asked if that was your name, all I required was a simple yes or no." She looked down at the ledger she was holding and scribbled something with her quill pen, ignoring the angry glare in the opposite corner of the room.

Albel ground his teeth. As much as he wanted to quip back and tell her how little her life meant to him, he held his tongue. Threatening the doctor was a sure way to ruin any of his plans. "Yes, I am Sir _Maira_," he growled, emphasizing his mother's maiden name.

"Good. You can follow directions," the doctor replied. "I'm Dr. Hel. Follow meplease." She pushed her glasses up with her index finger and gestured to the door with her ledger.

The hall to the inner area was a palette of dull gray tones. The light was dim, casting solemn shadows into the corners and the air was cold and damp. The atmosphere was oppressive and sad, as if there was no room for hope inside the tiny medical facility. "This place reeks of death," Albel muttered, stifling a shiver.

Dr. Hel shrugged. "The world of medicine is often wrapped in despair. We can't save everyone, so people die."

"Death doesn't frighten you?" Albel asked with a snort.

"Why? Should it?" Dr. Hel replied, turning to face him as she stopped in front of the recovery room door. "I've seen more death and hopelessness than you can even begin to dream of."

Albel met her confident gaze with one of his own. "I doubt that," he stated, his voice a hiss. "You can lecture me about death and hopelessness when you walk through the very midst of it day after day, night after night, wench." He felt his eyes go cold as he slipped into that place where nothingness resided, and he watched as the doctor's haughty arrogance folded slightly.

Looking away, Dr. Hel adjusted her glasses once again and cleared her throat. "Well, you won't be despairing over your friend. She'll be just fine after she's rested." She gestured to the door, motioning for Albel to go in.

Inside, the room was even darker than the hall, making it difficult to make out the sleeping form of Nel resting on a bed in the center. Albel picked his way around the small tables and shelves holding various medicines and books, stopping at the foot of the bed to stare at his companion's quiet body. The doctor came in behind him, looking around him with a bland expression.

"She needs to rest, but you may stay if you're quiet," she said.

Albel nodded. "Leave us," he said, crossing the foot of the bed and pulling up a short wooden stool. He ignored the offended huff from Hel, and settled himself next to Nel's bed.

When the door clicked shut, he pushed back his cloak and leaned forward. "I know you're awake, Aquarian," he whispered, his face so close he could feel her breath blow lightly across his cheek.

Nel's eyes opened and for a long moment, they stared at one another, noses almost touching. Despite himself, Albel smirked at her. When Nel heaved a heavy sigh of irritation and pushed his face away with her hand, he didn't flinch or complain. Instead, he scooted back and let her struggle to sit up.

"You're a pain in the ass," she grumbled, rubbing her newly healed wrist.

"My, aren't we cranky," Albel replied, crossing his long legs and lacing his arms around a knee. "And to think, I carried you all the way here…to get this kind of gratitude."

The Aquarian stopped fussing with her wrist and looked up at him. "You carried me?"

"No, but I thought about it."

Nel rolled her eyes and began undoing her bandages. "Then who?"

Albel shrugged. "Your little fray attracted a lot of attention. I pulled you from the rubble, but some of the braver citizens found us and carted you away here. Lucky for you, I suppose, since I probably would have gotten lost in the rat maze of this town. You might have actually died…"

"Too bad too, huh? You might have gotten to go home then, right?"

Like a wick dipped in kerosene, Albel's temper flared. He reached out and snagged Nel's arm, pulling her across the bed, his grip crushing. "I searched high and low for you, wench. I ran myself ragged trying to find you. When that explosion went off, I thought for sure you were dead. How could you be so stupid! What were you thinking? I was…" He stopped himself, the surprise in Nel's eyes stripping away his rage. With a guttural snarl, he tossed her arm back at her and slumped back on his stool.

Nel stared at him, absently rubbing the red marks on her wrist. She'd seen him enraged and furious before, but this anger was…normal. Just a basic, plain, human emotion. He was mad at her because she'd made him…worry? She didn't dare say it. She hardly believed it herself. There had to be a more selfish reason behind his outburst. Albel was only concerned about Albel, nothing more, nothing less.

But still…

"Listen," Nel said, shaking her head. "I apologize for any inconvenience, Albel. But what did you expect me to do?"

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me what happened and then I'll tell you what I expected you to do," Albel snapped.

Nel frowned at him. And he had called _her_ cranky? She wasn't in the mood to argue with him. "It was Avarice. He said he was a merchant from Mota traveling to our continent. I knew he was suspicious, but I thought I could get some information from him, so I went with him."

"You willingly went with a monster like that just to glean some information?" Albel shook his head. Now he'd heard everything.

"I wasn't certain if he was a demon then. I had my suspicions, but I figured I'd handle the situation if it arose," Nel argued. "I am a spy, you know. It's my job to gather intel…no matter how dangerous the job may be."

"Oh, you certainly handled it alright," Albel remarked with a sneer. "Though your choices weren't very spy-like if you ask me. You mind telling me how a Molotov managed to blow up an entire city block? "

Pursing her lips, Nel looked away. "He left me no choice. Things got…complicated," she said.

Albel raised his brows skeptically. "Complicated indeed," he replied, still waiting for her explanation.

Sighing, Nel resigned herself and sat back against the headboard of the bed. "Honestly, I didn't expect the explosion to be so destructive. The Molotov was just the catalyst. Have you noticed all the barrels stacked up along the outer edges of this city?"

After thinking a moment, Albel shook his head.

"They're everywhere," Nel continued. "I got curious earlier and took a closer look. Those barrels are full of waste, probably both human and livestock--most of which are hogs." Albel made a disgusted face and Nel nodded. "Yes, I know, but it's ingenious actually. Somehow these people have managed to "ferment" waste and create explosives out of the gasses. If you look on the barrels, most of them have what appears to be a warning written on them. I suspect they use these homemade bombs to carve out pieces of the mountain." She glanced at Albel to make sure he was following along.

"After I took out his eye and he broke my wrist, I knew I would lose with just one arm and my blades. Not only that, casting magic against something like him was pointless. Spells take time and he was far too quick, even as injured as he was."

"You cut out his eye?" Nel frowned at Albel's interruption, but nodded slowly, watching as his face slackened in disbelief.

"I'd noticed some of those same barrels on the wall behind him, so I used the Molotov to blow up them up, hoping to throw him off guard enough to buy time to cast a spell. What I didn't realize was the small warehouse adjacent to the workshop was full of them. The first explosion took out half the warehouse, and that's when I saw what I'd done. It was only seconds later and the entire building exploded. Neither of us had any time to run." Nel shrugged nonchalantly, as if to say that was that.

Albel gazed at Nel, unable to hide his shock. The Aquarian's recklessness had nearly gotten her killed, but he couldn't help but admire the intelligence and astuteness she utilized, even in the throes of battle. Her ingenuity was a beautiful, yet deadly thing, and he knew he would never again take her intellect for granted. However, her common sense was another matter. "You don't have anymore bombs do you?"

"That was the only R-1 I had," Nel replied.

Albel frowned. "That wasn't what I asked."

Nel stared at him blankly. "You have your tools, I have mine," she said after a moment.

"You blew up part of a city, Zelpher. Under normal circumstances, I'd be impressed, but this time I'm not," Albel said. It was a partial lie. He was impressed, but not by her pyro-tactics. He could do without any more of those.

Nel frowned. "We really don't have time to argue over technicalities. You do things I dislike…"

"And you complain about them."

"And you ignore me, so I figure it's a fair trade off if I do the same."

Albel was about to tell her he didn't ignore her, but she was right. Damn her infallible logic. Instead he changed the subject. "Did Avarice say anything to you?"

Nel paused, looking away to study the dim outline of daylight bordering the heavy drapes. Avarice had told her many things in very few words, but they were things she knew Albel wouldn't want to hear. "Nothing much. Romero knows where we are. He told Avarice he could '_have_' me, for ruining his fun in Plum. Other than that, he made it sound like Romero wasn't much interested in what we were up to," she said.

"That was it?" Albel asked, his voice skeptical. The Aquarian was hiding something.

Nel nodded. "Yes. Pretty much. He seemed quite intrigued by me."

Albel's face darkened. "I bet he was."

Nel noticed the deadly change in her companion's voice and quickly asked another question. "So, what now?"

Albel blinked at her, his anger fading. "We leave. At dusk."

Eyes widening, Nel replied, "Can we do that?"

Albel nodded. "I've made arrangements. We'll have our supplies readied by nightfall. I don't see any reason to stay here and have a repeat of Plum. We'll travel through the night and rest in the morning."

"We'll be well off the mountain by morning. Probably a good idea we get used to traveling by starlight, since the trek across Rebyc will have to be done at night anyway. Do Rusia and Leylan know?"

Albel shook his head. "I had a messenger sent to them earlier. I suggest you get some rest. Your wounds will be healed by the time we leave."

"What about the demons?"

Albel stood and moved his stool to a corner of the room. "They'll be back. I guarantee it."

"And you don't have a plan?"

Albel sat back down, leaning his back against the wall. He pulled the Crimson Scourge from his belt and laid it across his lap. "You don't plan for demons. You just wait for them," he said, closing his eyes. "Considering you are now involved in this mess, you'll learn…or you'll die."

With that, Albel grew silent, leaving Nel to chew on his words. She was now a player in his dramatic nightmare, and she would soon learn how terrible the malevolence of demon kind could be. It was only a matter of time.

* * *

Sorry for the delay. I've been busy. Thanks to Kryssie and Sharon for looking over this chapter! I appreciate the help! Next chapter will be up in a few weeks! Thanks for reading everyone!


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

By: Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create

a silly fan story. I have no money either.

07/05

* * *

Albel was dreaming. That was the only explanation for why he was watching the ragged urchin boy from Tup'ni swing from one of the roping stations of the Nox stables--stables which were incidentally back in Kirlsa. Despite the clarity of the dream, Albel felt oddly calm. Usually his clearest dreams meant torment and memories, but for some reason he felt contented. Maybe all the torture had finally numbed his brain--not that he would mind; the less he felt, the better off he was anyway.

Sensing no malice, Albel leaned back against one of the giant granite pillars that marked the arch way which led from the stables to the manor. He tilted his face up to the late afternoon sun, amazed at how warm it felt against his face. He'd never had a dream be so realistic before. If it wasn't for his clothes--a loosely belted robe--and his bare feet, he'd almost think he was back home.

Home. He really had no home anymore. Not such as the one he was seeing right now. How long had it been since he'd set foot inside his manor? Weeks? Months? Years? He couldn't remember. He knew it was being cared for, as Woltar had seen to it after the…incident, but Albel hadn't given it a thought afterwards. He could never live in that place again.

Eyes shifting back to the boy, Albel watched the child playing amongst the bales of moldy hay, chasing the semi-wild barn cats that called the stables their home. The same boy that had led him to Zelpher back in Tup'ni; the one with eyes and hair like his own. "_Kaine_," Albel thought, but then shook his head. The child was too old by at least a year or two. Then again, he was no expert on the spirit world, and maybe it was possible for ghosts to manifest themselves as they saw fit.

Albel gave a harsh chuckle. As if he'd be so lucky. He could deal with being haunted by his dead son. Ghosts couldn't physically hurt anyone unless they were given the power to do so. Demons, on the other hand…his eyes narrowed at the boy. This was probably another one of Romero's tricks, but he was willing to play it through. He had no choice.

"I hate him worse than you."

Albel blinked at the boy, who was now standing on the highest hay bale and peering down at him. "What?" Albel asked, frowning.

The child sighed heavily and shook his shaggy head. The expression would've been comical coming from an ordinary boy. "You're really not too smart, are you?"

"Excuse me?" Albel said after his mouth had dropped open.

The boy made a show of shaking his head once more, then leaped from the top of the hay stack, landing effortlessly onto the ground. Albel blinked, then jumped when the child appeared in front of him suddenly. The boy scrutinized him for a moment, then frowned slightly. "Mama said I should be nice to you, since you're sensitive for a man. But I never expected you to be such a crybaby."

Instantly angry, Albel lashed out to cuff the child upside his head, but the boy ducked out of the way with uncanny speed. "Watch your mouth, brat," Albel snarled, baring his teeth.

The dark haired youth laughed. "See? You let your feelings take over before you can even think about them. You can never let anything go. You should learn to lighten up." He rocked back on his heels, regarding Albel. "Before it gets you killed."

As badly as he wanted to take another swing at he brat, Albel crossed his arms in front of him; he'd never be able to touch him anyway. "What do you know?" he growled.

Dark eyes narrowed back at him. "I know that the man before me is incredibly powerful of body, but a narcissistic whiner with delicate sensibilities that direct every ounce of his spirit. It's pretty pathetic. Not everything is about _you_, you know."

Albel gaped at the child, shock overriding his fury. "I should kill you," he finally whispered.

"But you won't. And you can't. Besides, you might be ruthless, but even _you_ wouldn't harm an innocent child out of spite." The boy gave Albel a look full of confidence.

"But you're no child," Albel countered.

The child shrugged and there was a flash of sadness across his face. "I'll never be an adult either."

Albel shifted as unease turned into acid-like guilt. At a loss for words, he looked away, studying the misty horizon. For a moment, he almost believed he was staring at the boy his son would have become if he hadn't died; and that thought froze him more so than any of Romero's dirty tricks.

The seconds ticked between them for what seemed like hours. Finally Albel found his irritation and looked back down at the child. "What do you want from me?" he asked quietly. "I can't do anything for you."

The boy looked up, his small lips twisted into a frown. "Yes you can."

Albel arched a brow. "Oh? What then?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"Survive."

The word stuck him like gong and he stared wide-eyed at the small boy. He said the only thing that came to his mind, "Why?"

The boy smiled slightly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Because it's the least you could do, and you owe me."

Albel's jaw clenched tight. Anger swirled instinctively, but it was tempered quickly by less welcome emotions. If this boy was his son, he did owe him. He owed him a debt so large that not even his life would be payment enough. Yet this child said he wanted him to survive. Why? What purpose would that prove?

"You're such an idiot," the boy said, his small brows drawing together. "You don't get it, do you?"

"Well, if you'd stop talking out your ass and tell me exactly what's going on, we wouldn't have a problem, would we?" Albel snapped, flexing his talons out of habit.

The boy gave Albel a glare. "You shouldn't talk to kids that way, dummy." He shook his head and sighed. "You never were a very good father," he muttered.

A chill raced up Albel's spine and he shivered. Eyes growing wide, he stared at the little child, his chest tightening. "I know that. I never wanted to be one," he said quietly, knowing it wasn't a credible excuse. But it was the truth. He had never wanted a family, aware he wouldn't be able to bear the dependence that came with one. And he'd been horribly right too.

"Well that's obvious," the boy replied. "But it doesn't change anything. Children don't ask to be born either, you know. Once you have one, your life belongs to them." The look he gave Albel was angry, almost terrifying. "But you've never given yourself to anyone. Not your friends, not your wife or son, not your mother or father. Nobody. You share nothing, not your pain or even your joy. You keep it all locked up inside until you can't tell what is what any more, then you pass it off as haughty arrogance. It's pathetic, disgusting, and selfish. And it's going to get you killed."

Each word hammered Albel like a mallet. Truth was always painful. He'd never given himself wholly to anyone; he'd never seen a reason to. Spreading himself about would give others ammunition against his weaknesses. But it had made his life…lonely. And bitter. "Why do you care?" Albel snapped.

"I don't, really. But as much as I dislike you, I hate _him_ even more."

"Him?"

The boy wrapped his small arms around himself and shook. He stared at the ground, his matted, shaggy hair falling about his face. For a moment, Albel saw the true child peering out from that tiny body and was knifed by a stab of sorrow. "It's all his fault. He's worse than you. Far worse. If he isn't dealt with, he'll never leave us alone."

"What?" Albel said, feeling as if he'd swallow a stone. "Who won't leave you alone?" The boy raised his chin and the haunted look in his eyes was all the answer Albel needed.

He put a hand over his face and closed his eyes. Romero. This was all his fault. All of it. Even in death his family couldn't find peace. He hadn't known. He'd known Romero's reach was long, but he'd never imagined it could extend into death. All this time he'd thought their suffering had ended. All this time he'd been wrong.

A tug on his robe brought him away from the grief and remorse. He looked down to see the child staring up at him. There was confusion on the small face, a hint of anger, but it was the hope that was there that startled Albel the most. "You're sorry for the wrong reasons," the boy said, his voice miniscule. "I think it's time for you to see this."

Albel frowned, but watched as the boy waved his hand and the stable grounds disappeared. The world seemed to twist and warp into a collage of colors until they were standing outside his private study. Albel stiffened instantly, all the color draining from his face. He glanced at the boy, who stared intently at the massive oak door. "Why…why are we here?" Albel asked, failing as he tried to calm the tremor in his voice.

"Because you need to see with different eyes," came the reply.

The sound of feet pounding from the hall behind them made Albel turn and look. He leapt back, reaching for a sword that wasn't there, as Kasia rushed by them. In her arms was a small bundle wrapped tightly in a deep blue blanket. Her dress was torn, her face scratched, and her eyes were wild with fear. As she reached for the door, the sound of splintering glass could be heard from inside the room. The door was flung open and Kasia let go a hideous scream as she was jerked inside.

Albel stood, feet planted as if they'd grown roots. He was gasping for breath as he stared at the open door way. Heavy black smoke was beginning to pour from inside the study, making it impossible to see, but he could hear the sounds of fighting, the wail of a babe, and the pitiful screams of his wife.

"No," he whispered, his voice sounding like an echo. "I don't want to see." He took a small step back, jumping as he heard his own cry of rage resonating from the study.

The child gave him an almost sympathetic smile. "You must. It's the only way for you to know the truth."

Albel shook his head harshly. "I know the truth, dammit! I was fucking there!" He pulled open his robe, baring a shoulder, and pointed to one of the deep scars. "I know what happens!"

The boy started to scowl, then smirked. "Apparently, you don't." With a push, he sent Albel sprawling through the smoke and into the study. The door slammed shut with a thundering boom. "Watch with your eyes this time, and not your heart. You'll see what we saw then."

* * *

A strangled scream of rage and anguish brought Nel scrambling out of a miserable doze. Her heart leapt inside her chest, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she fumbled for her blades. Falling out of the canvas tent she shared with Rusia, Nel winced at the blazing sun overhead as she stumbled through the hot sand on bare feet.

"Albel!" she shouted as she dove inside the men's tent, her weapons poised and ready.

The tent was empty except for her two male comrades. Albel was sitting up on his bedroll, his head clasped in both hands. A fine tremor shook across his body and rivulets of sweat ran down his naked torso. In a corner, Leylan huddled, trying to make himself as small as possible. His eyes were fearful and he gave Nel a panicked look as she entered the tent. When she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, Leylan cringed and stammered, "H-he just s-started s-screaming."

Nel frowned and tucked her blade back into her short skirt. "Go sit with your mother," she said, pointing at the tent flap. Leylan complied readily, and when Nel was certain he was gone, she turned back to Albel.

He was panting, his mouth open and chest heaving. For a moment, Nel was afraid he was hyperventilating. She really didn't want to have to slap him. Moving to his side, she reached out and carefully touched his shoulder. "Nox," she said quietly, "you need to calm down."

Albel jerked away from her and growled. "Leave me alone! I said I didn't want to see!" he shouted, shaking his head from side to side in his hands.

"Huh? See what, Albel?" Nel asked, moving her hand slowly back to her lap. He'd warned her once before to leave him be when he got this way, but she couldn't bring herself to let him suffer. Not like this.

Looking up, Albel stared at her, letting his hands drop. He blinked once, then twice, confusion pinching his features. "You," he said, his voice rough and dry.

"Yes, me. Nel," she said, feeling slightly ridiculous. She tilted her head at him. "What happened?"

Albel looked at her, then glanced away. His movements were jerky and unnatural as he scanned the tent, his face frowning. "I smell blood," he said.

Nel followed his gaze and sniffed the air. "I don't," she replied, trying to hide the worry she was feeling. "You had another nightmare."

Albel's head swung back to look at her. He narrowed his eyes to slits. "No shit," he snapped.

Nel arched her brows at him. The only time he used blunt profanity was when he was too shaken to think of anything wittier to say. Something had scared him--scared him badly. "You want to tell me about it?"

"No."

Sighing, Nel sat back on her heels. It was useless to push him. Albel's ability to clam up could be admired by monks all across Elicoor. If he didn't want to talk, he wouldn't, and no one could convince him otherwise. "Fine," she replied, standing up and moving to Leylan's bedroll. She picked it up, wrinkling her nose at the sweat stain, then gave it a good shake. There was a slight feeling of satisfaction when Albel flinched away from the bits of sand and debris. When she was satisfied it was as clean as it was going to get, she flipped the bedding over and lay down on her back.

Albel watched her, frowning. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Going back to sleep," she replied testily.

"Here?"

Annoyed at the lit of surprise in his voice, Nel rolled over on her side and glared at him. "Yes. Here. It's nearly a hundred and twenty outside, if you haven't noticed. I don't feel like running back out there. And besides that, I imagine it'll be a cold day in the lava caves before Leylan can be coaxed to room with you again."

Albel grunted unhappily and wiped some sweat from his face. "I noticed," he grumbled, his eyes drifting the bindings that bound Nel's breasts. He scowled and looked away.

Jaw clenching, Nel rolled to her other side so he wouldn't see her face flame red. It wasn't her fault she was in her undergarments. Rebyc was a waste land of sand and sun scorched stone. The heat during the day made it impossible to travel and sleep was nearly unbearable. At night, the temperatures fell, but the desert was still hot and too uncomfortable to wear regular clothing. The men had stripped down to nothing but their linen pants and boots, while Nel and Rusia suffered to maintain a woman's modesty without dying of heat stroke.

There was a rustling sound as Albel stood. The canvas of the tent opened and Nel looked up at the tall figure staring out across the blinding sunlight. Instantly, the temperature in the tent crawled a few degrees and Nel groaned. "You're not planning on going out there, are you?"

Albel threw a scowl over his shoulder. "Don't be stupid," he said. His attention returned to the desert and Nel sat up, his peculiar silence making her uneasy. For a long while, she just studied the pondering warrior, wondering where his thoughts were drifting.

"Kasia means 'bright sun'," Albel said unexpectedly. "She once told me that when we were brats. I told her it probably meant dragon dung and she cried. I still have a scar from the beating my father gave me." He put a finger to a place just above his hair line.

Not wanting to discourage Albel's sudden willingness to talk, Nel grew very still. She wasn't certain if he was talking to her, or just letting an excess of thoughts spill out of his troubled head. Whatever it was, she knew he wasn't looking for a willing participant in this conversation. No, he wanted someone to listen, to hear _him_ for probably the first time in his life. Why he chose her, Nel didn't quite understand, but for some reason it didn't matter.

"I was always making that woman cry," he continued, still looking out across the desert. "I was cruel to her as a child and as a man. But she never tattled or complained to anyone. Not once. She would even defend me when my father or Woltar thought to scold me for something I'd done to her." Albel shook his head incredulously. "Stupid woman. I hated that about her; her wonton forgiveness and passivity."

He let the flap of the tent fall shut, but he remained staring straight ahead. "I still hate it. I know now that she's forgiven me for letting her die. She never even blamed me for it." He laughed and it was harsh. "She's even forgiven me for not loving her or our son."

Nel closed her eyes and pinched her lips shut. His pain, his sorrow, his suffering was evident in each of his words. His angry confusion twisted her heart painfully. He didn't understand and she couldn't explain it to him. Forgiveness and love were things a person had to learn on their own. Albel's problem was he was he didn't want to understand, afraid that anything other than anger and aggression would make him weak and vulnerable--exactly what he was now. The irony was saddening.

Albel looked over his shoulder at Nel, his face softening slightly. "But I never hated _her_," he said, his voice quiet. "I didn't love her either, but they were mine to protect. And I failed them." He turned and padded back to his bedroll, averting his eyes as he passed by Nel. "Now I have a duty to set it right and…" He fell silent as he sat down.

Nel waited for him to finish, but Albel only laid himself down and put his back to her. Unable to contain her curiosity, Nel asked, "And what?"

"And if you ever repeat one word of this conversation, you'll learn the real reason why they call me 'Wicked'," came Albel's reply after a few moments of quiet.

Nel blinked, then made a sound of frustration as she thumped back down onto her borrowed mat. "Whatever," she grumbled, too tired and hot to argue with him. "Just don't get yourself killed on my time."

Albel snorted from his side of the room. "Funny. That's what she said."

* * *

Ahhh--Sorry for the delay again! Not much I can say about it, except I hate summer time. Long hours and sweltering heat! Yuk! Not sure when the next chapter will be up, so I make no promises. Thanks again everyone for reading and sticking with my sporadic updates! You're all great! There's another translation up on the website, for those that are interested. New crappy icons as well! Thanks DR for your help:P See you next time!


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

By: Zosocrowe

_Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time_

_I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create_

_a silly fan story. I have no money either._

09/05

Albel, Nel, Leylan, and Rusia stared down at the emancipated corpse laying at their feet. Over head, the bright gibbous moon waned, casting long shadows across the sand of the Rebyc Plains and adding a solemn mood to the tired crew of travelers.

"I told you I smelled blood," Albel said, breaking the silence.

Nel rolled her eyes. "That was three days ago," she grumbled.

Albel took a moment to consider, then replied, "Really? Time certainly does fly in this place, doesn't it?"

Balling her fists so tight that the nails of her fingers bit into the flesh of her palms, Nel fought the urge to turn and pop the Glyphian in the mouth. "That's not important," she snapped, earning startled looks from Leylan and Rusia. "What I want to know is why this is the third day in a row we've seen this very same body."

Albel stepped beside her and nudged the strawish corpse with his toe. "Maybe he's following us," he said.

Rusia gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. Leylan pulled his mother close, giving Albel a worried look.

Nel sighed. "Or maybe we've been wandering around in circles."

"That too."

Temper snapping, Nel spun on her heel, and glared up at Albel. "I'm glad you find this so amusing, Nox. But if you don't have anything constructive to say, just shut the hell up."

Albel's brows arched high and the corner of his mouth ticked. "Do you see me laughing?" he asked, his voice dully bland.

Nel growled, threw her hands up in the air, and stalked off.

Three days. Three whole days wasted in this damned wasteland. Fayt was probably dead--or had already been rescued by a more competent group of people. Hell, he might have escaped on his own. Nel wouldn't blame him. If anyone needed rescuing right now, it was them.

Nel found her way back to the Lum, which were waiting patiently over the next dune. She crested the peak, slid down the bank, and made a little hop onto flat ground.

How had she gotten herself into this mess? Nothing was going right. Everything was falling apart.

She'd failed her mission. Failed it badly. Not only had she not managed to rescue Fayt, but if they didn't find their way out of the desert soon, they'd run out of supplies and die a slow and miserable death. And there was the trouble she'd gotten herself into with a clan of psychotic demons. Mustn't forget them.

Nel found a sand smoothed piece of stone and sat down. And if all that wasn't bad enough, Albel's smug sarcasm was driving her insane. Did that man not take anything seriously? How could he be so aloof? Most of this was all his fault anyway.

She cupped her chin in her hand. Well, that made sense. He got his jollies out of bringing other people misery. He wasn't called 'wicked' for no reason. If they made it back to Airyglyph alive, she would have to mention to Woltar that Albel deserved a raise.

Sighing, Nel stared out over the darkened desert. Mota was somewhere just beyond that film of blackness on the horizon. They should've been there days ago. She was beginning to wonder if it would be best to turn around and return to Aquios. They could regroup--or send someone else who would be more capable of getting the job done.

Something on the horizon moved among the shadows.

Nel sat up slowly, drawing her blades. It wasn't any of her companions. She'd left them at her back. This was coming at her, in the opposite direction.

Whatever it was, it wasn't moving quickly. Nel glanced at the Lum. They snoozed peacefully, nose to tail. That eased her mind. If danger was approaching, the vicious war beasts would be the first to notify her.

She started to put her blades away, but a niggling sensation tugged at her brain. She blinked, confused by her own hesitation.

It was the fatigue, she decided. She was tired. That had to be it. The days of uncomfortable sleep and endless nights of trudging through dry desert, baking in her own sweat, were beginning to take their toll. What she wouldn't give for a sudsy bath and soft bed.

The blocky shape was closer when she looked back to the horizon. It still plodded along, in no rush to get where it needed to go. She noticed the figure had an odd gait, swaying from side to side, almost as if it walked on four legs.

Nel squinted, putting her hand to her eyes.

It did have four legs. A broomstick tail. And two incredibly long ears.

It was a donkey. A small, wooly little donkey.

Nel shook her head in disbelief and slipped her blades back into their sheaths. What the hell was a donkey doing in the middle of the desert? She thought for a moment, then remembered the body back in the desert. The beast probably had belonged to that unfortunate man, and now it was wandering in the same unending loop they were caught in.

Poor thing.

Dusting off her clothes, she went to the saddle bags and pulled out two small, hard pieces of bread. Vegetables would be better, but she didn't have any and seriously doubted the little creature would care much. In this place, food was food, no matter where it came from.

The tiny animal stopped at the top of a dune, its long ears swiveling forward and Nel approached from the bottom. A halter at least three sizes too big hung off its skinny face. A tattered rope dangled in the sand at its feet.

Making soft clucking noises, Nel crept forward, jiggling the food in her palm. The donkey watched her, shifting its weight from one dainty hoof to the other. After a bit of hesitation, it stepped forward, deciding food was more important that fear.

Nel smiled when the little animal halted just out of reach and stretched its neck to sniff the bread in her hand. Pity filled her eyes as she looked the over the skeletal frame, bones jutting out of the skin at harsh angles. The sensitive skin inside the ears and around the nose was blistered. Its mouth was cracked and dry, with bits of skin flaking off as it lipped her hand. One eye was nothing but an empty husk, shriveled like a raisin in the unrelenting heat.

How horrible--to suffer all alone for so long. Was this how they would end up? Wandering until their bodies slowly decayed and dried up into dust?

Nel reached out to pat the weathered nose.

"Lady Nel! No!"

Rusia's voice cut through the darkness. Nel jumped and the donkey shied away. Afraid it would run, she turned around and reached for the frayed rope. Her fingers barely brushed the coarse hemp when she was jerked backwards off her feet.

A hand gripped the collar of her shirt and an arm closed in around her waist, pulling her back down the dune. The small donkey trotted away, stopping at the peak to look back at her. Nel snarled in anger. "Let me go," she growled, struggling against the hands. Tipping her head, she threw it backwards and winced when she felt it connect to a sharp chin.

"Ow," came a startled shout. The voice was familiar. Nel twisted around and found herself staring into Leylan's watering eyes. He gave her a hurt look. "I think I bit a chunk off my tongue."

Wide eyed, Nel pulled away. "Leylan? Wha--why? What are you doing?"

The sound of a sword leaving a scabbard caused her to whip around.

Albel appeared at the top of the dune, his sword drawn and poised at his side. The little ass bared its teeth at him and pinned its ears flat against its head.

"What's he doing?" Nel exclaimed, starting forward. "Wait! Albel! Stop!"

She watched in horror as Albel descended on the creature, moving so quickly that she couldn't even follow him. A one eyed, half dead donkey had no chance. It only took the span of a few seconds, and Albel had reduced the animal to several piles of quivering meat.

Nel gaped, too confused, too angry to speak. It wasn't until Rusia stopped beside her, gasping and breathless, that Nel found her voice. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she shouted. Rusia touched her shoulder, but Nel slapped her hand away. "What is going on? That donkey wasn't hurting anyone!"

Rusia rubbed her hand, eyeing Nel warily. "Lady Nel, please listen."

Nel gave the older woman a slashing look, trying to hold back the tears in her eyes. What was the matter with her? It was just an animal. Albel's brutal slaughter had probably done it a favor.

"Lady Nel, that ass isn't what it seems," Rusia said, obviously seeing the regret in Nel's face.

Nel frowned, prying her eyes from Albel's shadow in the hill. "What?"

"After you left, Lord Albel examined the corpse more closely. Apparently he wasn't joking when he said he thought it might be following us." Rusia shivered, folding her arms around herself.

Nel blanched. "It _was_ following us?"

Rusia shook her head. "Not exactly. Lord Albel turned it over. On its back, there was a mark…in the shape of a hoof print."

"A hoof print?" Nel glanced to where the donkey had stood. Albel was sparking a piece of flint against the remains, preparing to burn them.

Nodding, Rusia continued. "Leylan remembered an old tale. One of those stories adults tell children to frighten them into obedience."

"Like the boogieman?"

"Yes. Except this story is about a donkey who lives in a wasteland, waiting for ignorant travelers to cross its path. He chooses those who were lazy or inattentive in their preparations, then approaches them as a wayward beast. After befriending them, the spell is cast and he carries them in circles while they die a bitter and painful death."

Nel stared at Rusia, unable to even blink. "You can't be serious," she said. "You think that donkey is the same one?"

"After the traveler dies, the donkey, whose name is Belphegor, devours their soul and leaves the body to turn to dust in the desert. However, before he leaves, he marks the corpse with a hoof print, warning those who would be careless and make the same mistake."

Nel felt the air leave her. "A demon donkey?" It sounded absurd. But she'd seen stranger things with her own eyes. Another revelation of horror washed over her. "But we came prepared. None of us befriended him. Why were we trapped in the circle?"

Albel slide down the hill, jogging the last few steps at the bottom, and strode over to Nel's side. He gave her a look and put his sword back into his belt. "Technically, we didn't," he said, pointing in the direction of the horizon. Nel followed his finger and gasped as a black fog seemed to lift out of the darkness. The lights of Mota were bright against the natural dark, twinkling like a thousand stars.

"He wove a spell of hopelessness and reluctance. That's why we've all felt so much more tired and snippy. He couldn't trap us in his loop of death, but he could make us feel like giving up," Rusia answered.

"And he used a simple sight spell to shield Mota from us. He created a mirage, so to speak. We never were very far from the city," Albel stated.

Nel shook her head, too confused to be happy. "But why? And what of your charms, Rusia? Why didn't they protect us from the demon?" She pulled out the strange stone pendant and held it up to the moonlight.

Rusia's brow furrowed, and she gently took the necklace from Nel. "Maybe because we weren't as prepared as we should've been. I'd heard stories of Rebyc, but I never expected it to be as horrible as this."

Leylan put an arm around his mother's shoulder. "Only a caravan should travel though this place. It's the only way to ensure survival. We…we were lucky."

Nel wasn't sure if she should shout for joy or slink away. The others hadn't fallen for the spell nearly as hard as she had. If it hadn't been for them, she'd have died an agonizing death and become a husk in the desert. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I was foolish."

Rusia startled her with a quick hug. "No. This journey means much to you, that's all. You want to save your friend so badly that the idea of failure kills your heart. You should have more faith in yourself, Lady Nel. You're friend is very lucky to have you." The woman smiled, and patted Nel's shoulder.

"Ah…thank you Rusia," Nel replied swiftly. Thank Apris it was dark. She didn't want them to see her cheeks turn as red as her hair.

Albel made a harsh noise in his throat. "Now if she can managed to stay away from evil donkeys, all will be right with the world." He waved a hand dismissively and started off in the direction of Mota.

Nel gave him a slashing look. "Well, if all evil asses looked like you, I wouldn't have any trouble telling them apart," she replied, storming past Albel as he lurched to a stop.

For several moments she only heard the sound of sand crunching under her boots, but she could almost swear she heard a masculine chuckle whisper across the desert somewhere behind her.

* * *

_Sorry for the delay. Thanks to DR once again! Thanks to everyone else who has taken the time to read. You guys are cool. I appreciate all the feed back you've given me! This chapter is short--bear with me while I shift gears, okay?_


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

By: Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time  
I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create  
a silly fan story. I have no money either.

1/06

* * *

Albel fingered the half empty tankard of mead as he sat on an uncomfortable stool at the Ready Red inn's in-house tavern. It was late, but the small establishment was busy with waitresses dodging patron's elbows through narrow isles and customers talking in loud murmurs over hot meals. The smell of food encouraged a grumble from his stomach, though he'd eaten less than an hour ago. Being lost in a desert had obviously concerned his already slender body and now it seemed to be trying to over compensate. Couldn't blame it; he'd been worried there for a bit too. But they'd made it, by some stroke of luck, to Mota.

So here he sat, at the Ready Red inn and tavern. What kind of name was Ready Red anyway? Red couldn't be ready, could it? It was just a color; an adjective. He frowned, lifting the thick glass to his lips, and drained it. Ready to spurt from the body, perhaps. He set the tankard down loudly, catching the young bar-keep's eye. She smiled, wiping down some cutlery, and gave him a slight nod. Disinterested, Albel fingered a red coaster on the table.

Ready Red. Ready to mouth off at the slightest provocation. Albel snorted softly and pushed the coaster away, watching it slide off the opposite edge of the bar. Red was such an obnoxish color; always loud, always demanding attention, and never subtle. Wherever there was red of any hue, there was also trouble.

Ready Red, indeed. Ready to piss him off, more like it. Now that he thought about it, he really didn't care much for the color blue either.

The young bar-keep appeared before him, pushing another full glass his way. Albel looked up, trading his frown for surprise. He'd seen many homely women in his years, but this was the first one he almost felt sorry for. Her skin was pasty, like unbaked bread that had set too long, and was covered in large, ruddy blemishes. Muddy eyes that were placed too far apart gazed back at him from beneath nonexistent brows. Her nose looked as if a baker rolled a lumpy piece of dough and set it upon her face. And though her hair was hidden under a shroud of white cloth, he could still see the shock of carrot frizz trying to escape along her hair line.

"Do you want something else?" the girl asked, her voice surprisingly pleasant.

Albel blinked, suddenly aware that he'd been staring. "You own this place?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"No," she replied. The girl smiled, her teeth perfectly white and straight. At least she had something going for her. "My parents do though." She pointed to a huge man with hands the size of hams and a rusty beard that hung well below his chin. They both had the same wide set eyes and doughy nose.

"Ah," Albel said, lifting his drink. The entire family was probably red-heads, he suspected, hence the stupid name of the inn--though Ready Orange was better suited. True red heads were hard to find. He'd only met maybe a handful in his years. And like all things red, every one of them had had a way of drawing attention to themselves.

How irritating.

He dropped the heavy glass back onto the table. The girl was still staring at him, smiling. "Not a chance," he growled. He watched with vague interest as hope drained from her face and was replaced by pathetic embarrassment and despair. "Go get me another," he said, lifting his drink to his lips once more. The young girl swallowed once, wiping her hands on her dingy apron, and scurried away.

"Wow. I'll be surprised if she doesn't poison you."

Albel didn't bother turning around. He didn't need to. Even if he was trapped in a cage with a thousand screeching idiots, he'd still be able to pick out her voice. He'd bet his last fol on it.

Nel sad down beside him, briefly brushing against him as she slid to onto her stool. "Bet you're a real hit with the ladies back home, prince charming."

Albel sniffed, lifting his glass. "They aren't interested in my personality," he said, taking a swallow.

"Then what else is there?" Nel replied, waving for a bar-keep.

Albel looked at her, unsure if she was being serious or sarcastic. Sometimes, only sometimes, the woman was nearly impossible to read. He really couldn't figure her out. One minute she could be screaming in his face, drooling and spitting like a soggy feline, but the next backing his ass in a bloody fight. He didn't get it. Did she hate him or not? And why should he care? Annoyed with himself, Albel replied, "Do you want to find out?"

He felt his eyes widen slightly as the words slipped out. He hadn't meant to say that. In fact, he didn't even remember thinking it. It just…sort of happened. Shit. Their relationship was built on the repeated brow beating and insulting conversations they had with one another, but there'd always been an undrawn line that neither would cross. He'd just crossed it--in a single, astounding bound.

Nel turned to look at him, her gaze steady and unrevealing. Under her scrutiny, Albel felt the urge to squirm. Why was she being so quiet? She wasn't actually considering his proposition, was she? His body reacted to that thought. Panic set in. He hadn't been serious! A joke! A simple quip at her nonsensical need pick a fight with him.

But what would happen if she actually took him up on the offer? A mocking chuckle seemed to echo from the depths of his brain. A few images passed by his eyes and he felt his mouth go a bit dry. This wasn't just a natural response to stimulus--being a male, he was all too familiar with those. Sensations like that were detached and easy to control. But this was different. His body and subconscious had joined teams. When had this happened? He took a drink of mead, but it did nothing to ease the sandpaper feel in his mouth or his nerves.

This could be a problem.

"You're drinking," Nel finally said.

Albel blinked and looked down at his glass. The alcohol. Of course--it made sense. Now he remembered why he hated the stuff. "So I am," he replied, feeling relieved.

"You better stop," Nel said.

Albel agreed, but didn't say so out loud. He rarely drank. The common side effects of liquor never appealed to him. He hated being out of control. But there were occasions where he'd tip back some mead to nurse his nerves--and lately his nerves needed some nursing. Content with the excuse, he finished off his glass just as the bar-keep appeared with his next. Nel raised a brow at him, but didn't say anything.

The bar-keep glanced at Nel, giving her the sweeping once over that only women were capable of. Nel didn't seem to notice as she asked for a menu and a glass of ice water. The girl gave her an unfriendly nod and stiffly made her way back to the kitchen.

Albel pulled the new round close to him, but didn't drink. He'd nurse this one, then head off to bed. The girl returned with Nel's menu and water, placing them in front of her and slinking off without so much as a glance at either of them. Albel looked at the water. "None for you, eh?" he said.

"No, I don't like the stuff," she said, looking over the menu. "Especially when I'm on a mission and demons are out to kill me."

The irritation in her voice was obvious--and infectious. "Shouldn't be a problem for you. You seem man enough to handle a few tankards," Albel replied, snatching the menu from her hands. A little food in his belly seemed like a good idea.

Nel took it back and held it out of his reach. "Please tell me you don't actually plan on drinking yourself into a stooper."

"Well, I hadn't thought about it, but it doesn't sound like such a bad idea now." He took a long drink, looking at her as he did.

Nel let out a half growl and grabbed the tankard from his hand, spilling some of the pale amber liquid onto the table. "Will you just stop already! What happens if they show up now? Did you bother to think of that?"

He had. He was always thinking about it, but life didn't stop because a few pissed of demons were after you. Did she really think he was that stupid, or was it her overbearing need to control everything around her talking? Whatever it was, it gave him an instantaneous headache. "Why should I worry?" he asked, reaching for his glass. "I've got you here to watch my back. If things get hairy, you can just blow up another town."

Nel sat back down. "I didn't…"

Albel arched his brows.

"I thought you didn't drink," she said instead.

He shrugged. "On occasion." He could feel her staring at him. Probably thinking he was cracking, turning to booze to numb the pain. Stupid woman. There wasn't enough drink in all of Elicoor to do that. Annoyed, he finished off the glass and pushed it away. He signaled a near-by hostess, intending on getting their orders for food--nothing more.

"Albel," Nel said.

The last of his melancholy mood dissipated. "Why are you here?" he snapped. "Surely not for the company."

Nel folded the menu and took a drink of her water. After a few seconds, she gave him a brief look. "I was hungry."

Right. And he was the king of Airyglyph. He could sense the worry just beneath the sardonic tone of her voice. He hadn't noticed before, but she looked tired. It was to be expected. They'd been though quite a lot. She had every right to be worried. Her mission was in the crapper. But it seemed her exhaustion had different roots.

"We've come too far to go back," Nel said suddenly.

Albel looked at her, then over his shoulder. His eyes scanned the rest of the tavern.

"What are you doing?" Nel whispered, moving her hands to her lap where her weapons were hidden.

"Checking for soul sucking asses," he replied.

Nel gave him a dirty look and put her hands back onto the counter. "Don't worry. There's only one here and he's not that dangerous," she muttered.

Albel smirked. "Just trying to be helpful. For a moment it sounded as if you were ready to turn back." He'd always believed that her objective was pointless, but it wasn't his mission. He was just the hired muscle. Whether they succeeded or failed never really concerned him. He only wanted to get this adventure over with as soon as possible so he could be free of Woltar's pestering and finish the business that had been started so many years ago.

"Sometimes the smartest move is to admit defeat and regroup," Nel said quietly.

He should've felt happy about Nel considering returning home, but elation wasn't what he felt. He felt angry. She was giving up? Quitting? That wasn't the Zelpher he knew. She had the tenacity of a fire drake and the temperament of a rutting lum. When things got difficult, she'd always been strong enough to hold her ground. Of course her strong personality and control-freak nature annoyed the hell out of him, but he admired her for sticking to her scruples when challenged. Why was she suddenly acting like such a--such a woman?

Albel snorted and turned away from her. "I really don't care what happens to that blue-haired idiot. If you ask me, he can save himself, so this mission has always been pointless." He glanced over his shoulder, checking to see if his words where sinking in. They were. Nel's forlorn expression was replaced by angry, glittering eyes. Albel continued, "But as pointless as it is, if you dragged me halfway across the Greeton for nothing, I'll be pissed off."

Nel glared at him, he lips a tight white line. "Am I suppose to be frightened?"

Albel shrugged. "Repayment for wasting my time is never pleasant. Ask my men," he replied.

"You don't scare me, Nox," Nel bit out, leaning forward on her stool. "I never said anything about going back. I said we need to re-group. As for your _wasted time_, I won't remind you that you're under orders to do as I say. You are on _my_ time."

Albel chuckled lightly. She was far too easy sometimes. "So what next, O' Mighty Leader."

Nel's face went blank. "Wha--? Next?"

The bar-keep appeared with their order. Albel reached into his pocket and placed a few coins on the table. "Next, as in what do we do now? I assumed you had a plan of some sort. Or are you making this up as you go along?"

"Of course not! But thanks to your 'friends', my plan is shot to hell."

Yes, there was that. Shot to hell was a bit extreme though. Sighing, Albel reached over and plucked a green olive from Nel's salad, popping it into his mouth. "Might I suggest disposing of some extra baggage?"

"You mean Rusia and Leylan."

Albel nodded, making a sour face was he chewed the tart food. "I would have left them back in Plum."

"That's because you're heartless and cruel," Nel snapped, stabbing at his hand with her fork.

"I don't like them. Especially the woman." Albel snatched another olive, smirking at his companion.

Nel speared some lettuce and egg. "You don't like anyone. Not even yourself."

The olive hovered at his lips for a moment as he gave Nel a long, considering look. "Ha!" he barked, making her jump. He toss the olive into his mouth and gestured with a slim hand. "Truth is your sword, eh? Well, here's a bit of truth for you to slice at. That woman is a liar."

Nel looked up from her salad. "What woman?"

Albel gave an exasperated sigh. "Who do you think, stupid?"

Nel chewed her food, her expression thoughtful. "Rusia?" She shook her head at Albel when he nodded. "You are the most paranoid person I've ever met. Not everyone is out to get you, Albel."

"And not everyone is your friend, Nel," he shot back.

"I know that," she snapped, setting her fork down with a clank.

Albel rolled his eyes. "Do you now? You pick up lost people like a dog picks up fleas, woman!"

It was Nel's turn to sigh. "Just shut up. What grounds do you have for such an accusation. Rusia and Leylan have never done anything suspicious. They're people who got messed up in a tragic affair. You have no compassion for anyone."

She was right. Compassion was something he wasn't familiar with. He'd never had time to be compassionate to others. He was too busy killing them. But being uncompassionate gave him an advantage over people like Nel. He judged everyone by the same worth. Either they were a threat or they weren't. Simple as that. He cut out all the fronts and niceties that other humans placed on each other--because he frankly didn't care if a person was good or bad.

He reached out and pulled on the thin chain that was around Nel's neck. His fingers brushed her collar bone and they both flinched. The pendant with the strange stone fell out of her shirt and between her breasts. "Maybe so. But instead of questioning my personality flaws, perhaps you should be asking yourself more important questions."

"Like what?" Nel asked, her voice quavering slightly as she pulled away from Albel's hovering hand. They stared at each other for a moment.

"Like how many pendants does it take to protect four people? And how many do we have on our persons?"

Nel stared at him, her eyes growing wide. "Oh Apris," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Albel stole another olive and popped it into his mouth.

* * *

_Sorry for the long delay. I have no excuses! But the story hasn't been abandoned, so no worries. Happy New Year to everyone. Thanks for sticking this one out! Take care_  



	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

By: Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create

a silly fan story. I have no money either.

1/06

* * *

It had begun to rain when Albel and Nel exited the inn's tavern and made their way down the short walkway that led to their rooms. The main part of the inn was not connected to the bar, as the city of Mota was fairly large and things could get rather noisy on a busy night. In order to spare their customers some grief, the Ready Red had separated the tavern from the sleeping quarters by a circular courtyard.

Albel glanced at Nel, who was uncharacteristically quiet--especially after listening to his suspicions. The woman was frowning at the small pendant in her hand, given to her by the peasant, Rusia, at some point in their journey. Its twin was still in the possession of the Rusia, or her son Leylan, though Albel wasn't certain which. The stone was odd, as if it really didn't have a color of its own, and if looked at hard enough, it seemed to glow with a pale, pale light. He'd never seen anything like it, but he sensed some sort of power coming from it.

Good or evil, he wasn't sure.

"They haven't tried to hurt us," Nel said. "Not personally, anyway." She looked sad, even through the shadows of the night.

Albel mustered a shrug, and looked away. Zelpher's mood was making him uncomfortable--and that bothered him almost as much as the pendant. "You trust people too easily," he grumbled. "I told you those two were suspicious, didn't I?"

"Hmm," Nel said, turning the stone over in her hand.

Albel stopped walking, staring at the woman as she continued forward. What? No argument? No nasty exchange? Not even a dirty look? "Are you even listening to me?" he said suddenly, his brows forming a sharp V.

Nel kept walking, turning the pendant over and over again in her hand.

Was she ignoring him? Or was she just enamored with that stupid piece of rock? For a moment he grew furious, but it was a thread of worry that moved him forward swiftly. Before either of them realized what was going on, he'd slapped the pendant from her hand and had her arm in a crushing grip. His clawed hand held her face, not gently, but carefully enough so she wasn't cut by the talons, and he forced her to look up at him. "What is the matter with you?" he growled, studying her eyes carefully for any sign of enchantment or spells.

Her face was full of surprise, for an instant, as she stood in his cold grasp. As her eyes stared at him, he could almost feel her really looking at him and his anger quickly vanished, leaving him with an overwhelming feeling of vulnerability. Frightened, he let her go and stepped away, but not before that open gaze turned furious.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Nel snarled, also jumping back. "You scared me to death!"

Her hot words struck a familiar chord and for that he was relieved. "What the hell are _you _doing? Walking around with your head in the clouds! Didn't you hear me talking to you?"

Nel blinked, then frowned. A look of embarrassment passed over her face. "I was thinking," she said. "You should try it sometime."

Albel snorted. "When you start thinking, it usually means trouble for me," he grumbled, running a hand through his tangled bangs. "I do hope you'll fill me in on whatever scheme you've come up with this time. That way I can decide if I wish to be involved or not."

Nel gave him a look and moved to where the pendant had fallen. She leaned over and picked it up, holding the stone between two fingers. She walked back to where he was standing and took his hand, turning it palm upward. The pendant fell into his and she gently closed his fingers shut. "Feel that?" Albel gave her a quizzical look, then looked down at his fist. It felt warm. Barely, but he could feel it. A localized heat against his skin, like the fading hotness after hot wax gets dribbled onto flesh.

He promptly dropped the thing into the dirt.

"What did you do that for?" Nel snapped, reaching to pick it up again.

Albel stopped her, unsheathing his sword and deftly using it to hoist the necklace into the air. "You don't know what it is," he said. "Who knows what evil it holds."

Nel shook her head. "Don't be stupid. There is something strange about it, but I don't think it's evil." Albel gave her a look and she sighed. "See, I was thinking back to Tup'ni--when I had that run in with those Bogles. Do you remember that?"

Albel raised a brow. "How could I forget," he replied. Nel's eyes widened and she looked away. "You nearly buried me under an entire mountain," he continued. The flush look on her face eased somewhat.

Albel hid a smirk. "And you saw me naked."

Red faced once more, Nel turned away, waving a hand. "A minute--and I mean minute--point. But anyway, I ended up in a cave. Ruins more like it. The walls were covered in these stones and water came from nowhere out of a basin. There were runes carved into the fall, and the faint hint of magic. It was all very bizarre, but someone or thing had hollowed out that mountain." She reached up over her head, almost on her tip toes, and touched the stone. "I think this is a piece of one of those crystals."

"That doesn't explain why the peasant maggot has two of these. Nor does it explain what they do. You said that woman told you they were talisman against evil. But they've done nothing to stop the demons from hunting us down. In fact, I've seen more demons in the past few weeks than I have in three years," he said. " I don't like that woman, or her son. They're up to something."

Albel and Nel stood staring at each other. The open courtyard was dark, the full moon overhead the only source of light. "I still don't believe they're dangerous," Nel finally said. Albel opened his mouth to argue, but Nel held up a finger. "But I do think we need to be cautious."

Albel shook his head in aggravation. "That's what I've been telling you all along, stupid woman."

"Shut up, Nox. You might choose to distrust everyone and everything, but that's not how I live _my_ life. If I'd thought for a minute they could be harmful to us, I wouldn't have ever brought them along. I'm not an idiot, contrary to your beliefs. Perhaps Rusia and Leylan are up to something, but maybe it has nothing to do with us?"

He hadn't thought of that. No matter. "It does now, since you got us tangled up with them," he snapped back. He was getting sick of arguing. His headache was returning--pounding right between his ears like a bright read firebomb. "Fine, I'll take care of the problem right now," he barked, his voice loud enough to make Nel jump a bit in surprise.

He stalked around her, dropping his sword onto his shoulder. He'd end this once and for all. It didn't matter if tonight was the last night Rusia and Leylan would accompany them, if they were up to no good, in league with Romero or the Greetonite army, he'd find out. There was a reason he was called the Wicked.

"Nox? Hey, Albel! Stop," Nel was shouting, but he ignored her. If they did things her way, they'd all end up dead or in some dungeon somewhere. He'd seen enough dungeons and he really didn't feel like dying yet. His way would be concise and swift.

He heard a strange noise on the night air, but turned seconds too late. The bola was around his longs legs, cinching them together and spilling him onto the hard dirt path face first. He managed to hang onto his sword, but there was little left of his dignity. Fury balled itself into his stomach like a heavy stone. No more Mr. Nice Guy. He was going to kick her ass.

"Zelpher!" he shouted, struggling to right himself, but a weight on his the middle of his back knocked the wind out of him. Stunned he gasped for breath. Too heavy. Too heavy to be the Aquarian. The sounds of a muffled struggle reached his ears. The voices of women and the clang of steel on steel. Albel growled, baring his teeth against the attacker that held his head firmly in the dirt. Who was it? What the hell was going on?

A bright flash blinded him, even with his face against the ground. He heard Nel's shout of surprise and felt the surge of panic rush over his body. His mind didn't even register the strangeness of its origins. He couldn't move. Immobilized. Helpless. Useless. Tremors shook his body and a growl escaped his lips. The mantra in his mind took over, chanting, "Not again. Not again. Not again." His hand tightened around his sword.

"Easy big guy," a male voice said.

Albel felt a sharp prick in his neck and the shaking eased. His limbs went numb, but he could still feel the coldness of the pathway against his skin. He could still hear, but his ears were only registering the faint sounds of the evening. People were shouting, but they sounded so far away. Someone was picking him up, which struck him as odd. Zelpher was to small to carry him. He knew he was thin, but he was still tall. She'd never be able to drag him to safety. She should just leave him and get away. That would be okay. He wouldn't hate her…couldn't hate her…

* * *

Albel's head felt as if it had been stuffed with feathers and cotton. He couldn't lift it, though he tried. Stubbornly, there seemed to be a string tied from his chin to his bellybutton. Where ever he was, it was warm, though the air smelled musty--like a dungeon. Dammit. He stayed still, feigning the first signs of awakening just to get his bearings. His good arm was bound over his head with a heavy shackle, but the chain wasn't taught. That was curious. Courteous captors? Not likely, as his metal claw was gone and all that remained was the port at the base of his upper arm.

As the drug wore off, he became aware of the heavy warmth next to him. He opened his eyes, squinting as he tried to focus. After a few moments, he could make out Nel's slack face as she rested against his armpit. His head swung back to the center of his chest. Sweet Goddess--this was the dungeon of hell.

"I think big guy is coming to," said the male voice Albel recognized from before.

"He's not that big, Kefi," came a female reply. "Besides, use his name. It's not like you don't know it."

The one called Kefi laughed. "Well, I'm not sure what he'd want me to call him. Using his first name seems too familiar, and just his last name seems to abrupt."

"I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate being called 'big guy' by a man either," the female said, annoyance in her voice.

Kefi laughed again. "But he does look kinda girlie."

Albel bit his tongue and told himself to stay put. This Kefi character was on his 'list' though. Next to him, Nel stirred, making a sound between a mumble and a moan. His breath hitched, catching in his chest. He hated the noises she made when she woke up. They initiated responses from his body that he had no control over, even now, in a state of crisis. He hated not being in control. He detested these responses that suddenly seemed to be taking over is usually rational psyche.

This was all starting to seriously piss him off.

Nel moved again, and Albel watched from beneath the layers of hair as her face frowned. She'd wake up soon. Or maybe she was already awake? Zelpher was sneaky. It wouldn't surprise him if she was playing the same game he was. He gave her a hard look, then decided she really was out of it. Her breathing was irregular for normal sleep, which was probably an effect of the drugs.

What to do? What to do? They were both bound and shackled. However, Albel had enough chain to stand if he wanted to, which was a critical mistake. Not only that, his legs were not tied. Either their captors were stupid, or just didn't care. It really didn't matter at this point. He couldn't do anything until Zelpher awakened and he knew who they were dealing with.

"So did you get it back?" the woman asked.

"Yeah, I did. The…I mean, Nox, had it," Kefi replied.

"Nox did?"

"Yeah. It was on his sword when I took it back."

Albel frowned. On his sword? Took what back? They couldn't mean the Crimson Scourge. Those fools couldn't wield that weapon. Not if they wanted to live, anyway.

"Thank the Gods," the woman said. "I was concerned they'd thrown it away."

"You really shouldn't have given it to them in the first place. It is sacred, you know. The elders would be, and probably will be, angry if they find out about this."

"At the time, I really had no other choice, Kefi. We were in trouble," she snapped. "I'm sure the elders will understand."

"They never understand where the Graphidite is concerned, Rika," the man said, his voice weary. "We really botched this mission."

The woman shushed him viciously. "It wasn't a total loss. We gained valuable information. Once we return to Citobor we'll explain what's happened. The elders will have to listen to us."

"I hope you're right."

There was a long pause. "I hope so too."

Albel listened with interest. The words were clearer and his mind less cloudy, but it still didn't make any sense. Citobor? Wasn't that where they were going? And what was this Graphidite? He searched his memory for any recollection of a Kefi or Rika, but there was nothing. Their voices were oddly familiar, but not.

"What are we going to do with them?" Kefi asked.

"Leave them here."

Kefi sputtered. "Rika, you can't let them leave here to die of thirst and starvation. At least be merciful." There was the sound of a sword leaving its sheath and Albel stiffened.

"Who said we're going to kill them at all. Honestly Kefi, you've been around that Nox character far too long. Those two will get free if we leave them here. It might take them a few days, but they won't die."

Albel's brows arched. Merciful amateurs. They'd wish they'd killed him once he managed to get his hands on them. First lesson as a mercenary or solider was an enemy was an enemy was an enemy. And enemies were made to be disposed of.

"I suppose you're right. Those two seemed to have seen some hard times. Nox especially. He's as ruthless as they come. Gives me the chills. How does someone become that cold?" Kefi said.

There were the sounds of feet scuffing along the concrete floor. "They're from Gait. That continent has been at war for decades. I'm sure both Lady Nel and Lord Nox have seen many hardships. Not only that, Lord Nox seems to have messed himself up with the demon clan. I'm sure he's seen horrors we can't even begin to dream about."

"I dunno. Plum was pretty gruesome," Kefi said.

"It was necessary."

Albel's eyes snapped open. Plum? He looked up without thinking. Leylan and Rusia stood across from each other at a large wooden table. They both looked at him, their eyes widening in surprise.

"Lord Nox, you're awake," Rusia, or rather, Rika, said. She looked younger, perhaps Nel's age. Both had shed their peasants clothing for tight black suits and strange hip and thigh packs. Around their necks were the pendants, the stones glowing softly against the fire light.

Albel looked away, his eyes sweeping his prison. They were in a cave or tunnel of some sort. The walls were a pale brown and there were large chunks of crystal jutting out here and there. It looked as if most of it had been sawed off by some sort of crude mining technique. On the far wall there was a large circle cut from the stone. Inside were runes and symbols that he couldn't read.

"I knew you were trouble," he growled, his voice dry and raw from the tranquilizers.

Rika cocked a brow at him and walked closer. "Indeed, you're astute. Too astute. If it wasn't for the Lady Nel, you would have tossed us aside back in Plum."

Albel managed a chuckle. "You give me too much credit, wench. I would have _killed_ you back in Plum." For a moment, Rika's face seemed to pale and Albel smirked. "You seem new at this."

The woman glared at him and stooped down. "Killing isn't how _we_ get things done, Lord Nox. Not unless it's necessary."

"But it does make things a lot more interesting," Albel replied, enjoying the disgust that blossomed on Rika's face. "Do you know what we do with traitors in my country?"

Rika stood and took a step back. Leylan, aka Kefi, stepped up behind her and grasped her shoulders. "We aren't in your country," he said. "We're sparing your life. You should be grateful."

Albel leveled him with a look and Kefi pulled Rika back a step. "Don't make me laugh. We save you from that sadistic twit Avarice, get you through that hellish desert, and get you to where you need to, and this is how you repay us? By tying us up, stealing our weapons, and leaving us vulnerable? And you do realize we are on a tight schedule. This little game of yours is going to cost us valuable time. So forgive me if I say your gratitude reeks of manure." He decidedly left out the part about battling the Creator and saving the Universe. They weren't likely to buy that one.

Rika's face softened somewhat and she shook Kefi's hands away. "Lord Nox, you and Lady Nel know of war, do you not? If so, then you know that sacrifices must be made, even to ones own honor and dignity."

"I've seen nothing of war here, you impudent maggot," Albel snapped. "The people here are fat and feasting everyday. The cemeteries we passed were empty. With the exception of Plum, I have yet to see a field where crows and vultures feast on the bodies. You talk of war, but you know _nothing_ of it."

Kefi stepped around Rika, his eyes glittering with anger. "It's you who doesn't understand! Our people are dying, pushed to the brink of extinction by the Greeton dictator and his merciless, wasteful ideals. We live in fear everyday. Hiding in the caves our ancestors carved, sneaking out by night to forage and steal food."

Albel stared at him, unsympathetic. "So you do know how to starve. That's a start."

"You…" Kefi raised his fist and Albel prepared himself for the blow. He was counting on it. This child was a pup with no teeth. A whiner and blind idiot. Just looking at him made Albel's blood begin to boil. All that talk of suffering. Of war. Of hiding.

"Kefi, don't," Rika said, grabbing her companion's wrist.

Albel laughed. "You," he said, trying to stifle himself. "How do you plan to fight a war by hiding? Do you have a military? Do you have power? Do you have money? You said your people are almost extinct. What can they do now? Why have they waited this long?"

"What could we do?" Kefi cried. "Our people have been persecuted for centuries!" The young man's body was trembling with rage.

"Fight," Albel said. "If living meant so much to your ancestors, they would have fought. But instead they hid. Here's a tip, boy: Only the strong survive in this world."

"Enough, Albel." Nel sat up, a bit unsteadily, but her eyes were clear.

"Why? It's the truth. Even your people in your pathetic country know this."

"I said shut up, Albel," Nel said again. She didn't look at him, her voice steady and even, eyes trained of Kefi.

"You aren't my king, wench. And even on my best days, I rarely listen to him." His chains rattled as he stood on shaky legs. They'd taken his boots, so the concrete was cold against his feet. But he didn't really feel it. He was hot with anger. Furious about everything. He could feel himself slipping into that cold, dead place where his soul had lingered for so long. He wanted a fight. Needed one. This sniveling whelp would give it to him.

Albel steadied himself and walked to the end of his chain, leaning into it as he bared his teeth at Kefi. "What kind of people sit around and watch their future die, huh? I'm curious, so tell me." When Kefi only stared at him, eyes wide, Albel's wicked grin faded. "Or maybe you'd like to show me, as brave as you are. I'll take you on, chained to a wall, one armed, no weapon or shoes, and half drugged. You still won't beat me. I'll tear you apart with my teeth and carve your heart out when my nails, boy. Do you have that sort of determination? Is your will strong enough?" His body trembled, run taught like a bow ready to spring. He knew his eagerness for bloodshed was obvious, but he didn't care. He wanted that child to see. To look into the face of a killer--of someone who had the determination to fight for his future and his pride, even if it meant dying.

"Walk away," Nel said from her seat on the floor. Everyone looked at her, but she glanced away. "He'll kill you Kefi. He means it. You…you can't possibly match Albel's strength or his will to win--even as he is now. Trust me, I've seen what he's capable of. Just leave." She then turned to look, first at Kefi, then at Rika. Her eyes were hollow, a look Albel had seen many times during the war. The face of a warrior who had seen too much and killed too many.

Nel Zelpher understood. Perhaps not his bloodlust, but his anger. They'd lost so much during those trying years when their countries had clashed. That time could never be regained. The people lost could never come back. The suffering would always be a stain on both their people. But that they'd been willing to risk those niceties for their ideals was proof of their strength to survive and their will to live. Aquios and Airyglyph wouldn't hide. Never.

Rika pulled Kefi back to the wall, her eyes shifting worriedly from Albel and Nel. She reached down and handed Kefi a pack and Albel's sword, then picked up one of her own. Seeing the Crimson Scourge, Albel felt a renewed rush of rage. "Leave that here, you idiot. That sword has one master--me."

"Weapons this good are hard to come by," Kefi said with a smirk.

"Fool. I'll say this once, if the Crimson Scourge doesn't recognize your strength, it will kill you," Albel snarled. "And it won't recognize the likes of you, or any of your people."

The two of them exchanged a worried look.

Nel sighed. "It's true. Take my weapons, but leave that cursed sword here if you value your lives. It will kill you, and anyone else who tries to wield it."

Rika and Kefi stared at each other for a moment, then Rika nodded and Kefi put the sword on the table. "I know Lady Nel speaks the truth," she said quietly. "Forgive us." Rika turned back to the large circular runes and drew her finger along them. The remaining crystals in the room lit up and the circle opened into a portal. She and Kefi stepped through and vanished, leaving behind nothing but a stone wall and ancient ruins.

"And I'm a liar?" Albel snapped, looking at Nel.

"No, you're just scary," Nel said, standing up.

"You seem awfully calm about this."

"Well, getting all riled up won't do anyone any good, will it?"

Albel wanted to choke the Aquarian. "Stupid. If he would have come closer, I could have held him hostage. That wench would have let us go in place of her friend's life."

Nel rolled her shoulders. "I don't know about that," she said. "You backed them into a corner, Albel. I think she would have left him here, even if it killed her to do it."

"You were awake the whole time."

"No. I woke up when you started getting antsy."

"I wasn't antsy! I was pissed off!"

"You still are."

"Damn right I am! We're chained up in only who knows where, I have no shoes, my arm is missing, and those little wretches took all our supplies. Not to mention I have a splitting headache still and I need to take a piss. I think I have a right to be a bit angry, don't you?" He raised his arm and furiously scratched at his mop of tangled hair, letting out an infuriated snarl.

Nel gazed at him, her expression unreadable. "Are you finished?" she asked calmly.

All he could do was nod. Yelling and raving wasn't going to get them anywhere. Though it did make him feel a bit better--for now. He was certain once they were free the rage would return again. "I'll track those little snots down…" he muttered. Actually, he'd have to now. They knew too much about himself and Nel. If word got back to the Greeton military, things would get very ugly very quickly. Neither Aquios or Airyglyph could afford a war with Greeton right now. Especially with Fayt on hiatus. Getting him back suddenly seemed more important.

Nel sidled up next to him and he jumped. "What are you doing.?"

"There's a pocket in the hem of my jacket. You'll find a pick in there. Get it out and free my hands," she said.

"Oh? Which hem?" he asked, looking at the dirty white coat she was wearing.

"Bottom left, just before it turns upward near the last button."

* * *

Nel was studying the strange glyph on the wall, tracing her finger over the runes. They glowed slightly, but then faded again. She did this over and over again as Albel watched from his seat on the floor. She seemed to think the magic was related to her own runes, and that she might be able to activate them if given some time. However, that was hours ago, or at least it felt like hours. There was really no way to tell time down here in the maze of caves.

"Give it up, Zelpher," he said, rolling his head from side to side. "We need to start walking."

Nel gave the glyph one last try, then sighed. "They don't seem that different, now that I really look at them," she mumbled as she turned around and walked back to where he sat. "You're right, we've got to get out of here."

Albel unfolded his rangy frame and stood, wincing at the stiffness in his backside. "And then what?"

Nel crossed her arms and looked him up and down. "I don't know," she said. "But I think we need to re-supply and get you some new boots."

Albel looked at his bare feet. Those little shits had taken only his shoes. Damn, and he'd liked those boots too. They'd been custom made. At least his sword was still here, scabbard and all. That made him feel a bit more relaxed, especially since his arm was gone too. Why they'd taken it, neither he nor Nel could figure out. Scrap metal maybe? They had said they were low on weapons. Perhaps they had a one armed companion. But that arm would do them not good, not if there wasn't someone to perform the initial surgery. It really didn't matter. The arm was gone. He'd have to make due until he could get a new one. Which might not be until he returned home.

He looked up and saw Nel frowning at him. She was obviously concerned about the same things. "You gonna be okay?" she asked quietly.

Glaring at her, he turned away and started a pathway. "Yes. I'm used to it," he replied. Being without his arm felt strange at first, but he was accustomed to taking it off and on. Regular maintenance required him to relieve the stress on his back and shoulders at least three times a month, and on those days, he spent his time locked away in Woltar's Library reading. If Woltar happened to be away, then he'd sneak down to the training area in the courtyard and practice his one arm sword tactics. He was prepared for situations like this…or so he hoped.

His answer seemed to satisfy Nel and she trudged along behind him as they steadily climbed out of the caves. All along the way, those strange crystals seemed to light up, guiding them to where they needed to go. Albel stopped to study one. He flicked it, watching the sprinkles of sparkles that flashed inside. "Say, Nel," he said over his shoulder, "were those two wearing a piece of one of these when they went through that rune portal?"

"Yes. Why?" she replied as she walked up beside him.

They looked at each other, then back at the stone. "You thinking what I'm thinking," Nel said.

"Sadly, I must admit I am."

Albel took the hilt of the Crimson Scourge and knocked out a hunk of crystal. It glowed brightly in Nel's palm, only quieting when she closed her fingers around it. They laid it on the cavern floor and broke it into two pieces. Nel handed him one and looked back down the passage way from where they'd come. "You ready to go get your arm back?" she asked.

Albel nodded once. "They said they were going to Citobor. Hopefully that portal takes us there."

"Wouldn't be the first time we jumped into some weird warp device, now would it?" she replied.

"Point taken," Albel muttered. "Hopefully this works." They could use a turn of good luck.

Nel smiled slightly and started back down to the holding chamber with the glyph. "I think it just might," she said.

* * *

_Oooh, so fast for an update! I'm proud of myself. I sat down to work on this and it wouldn't stop. So here it is! I wouldn't expect fast updates like this though--sorry! I'll do my best! thanks for pointing out the mistakes  
_


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

By: Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time  
I have merely borrowed a couple characters to createa silly fan story.  
I have no money either.

3/06

* * *

Nel stared at the glyph on the wall, gazing at the crudely etched runes. In her hands she rolled the two pieces of the strange stone she and Albel had taken. Remembering the pendant, she recalled that those stones had been refined and polished. Great care had gone into setting them into the silver clasps. She wondered if that would have any bearing on whether or not these primitive stones would work.

She gazed at the wall for a moment longer and sighed. They really didn't have much choice. Turning to Albel, she took his hand and dropped one of the shards into it. Carefully, she closed his fingers and said, "Hang on to this."

He glowered at her before jerking away. "I'm not some brat," he muttered.

No time for arguing semantics, Nel turned away and stood directly in front of the runes. "So, they said they were going to Citobor?" she asked, wanting to be certain. If that was the case, this portal would save them considerable time. If not…

"The answer is the same as the last four times," Albel snapped. "That's what those two thieving maggots said." Losing his arm had made him crankier. Beneath all that hostility, he was nervous. Despite having his sword, he was still vulnerable--especially if any demons decided to show up and play their deadly tricks. Nel didn't blame him, she was worried too.

"I just find it odd that humans would call Citobor their home," she said. "The Rock folk rule this country and Citobor is their capitol."

Albel gave an irritated shrug. "Humans and Rock folk have worked together in the past," he said. "I don't see why it's so surprising."

"The Rock folk work with people who are talented, Albel. Scientists, mechanics, geniuses. People like Fayt, Cliff, and Maria interest them the most. They have little interest in commoners," she replied, tapping a finger to her chin. "Why would Kefi and Rika's people be of any concern to them?"

Albel growled and stalked close. "Who cares! It's not our problem." He poked her in the chest with a finger. "Don't go getting us wrapped up in things that aren't our business. We have enough trouble already."

Nel batted away his hand, glaring at him. "I know that," she snapped back. "I'm just pointing out that we'll probably end up involved anyway. We have to get your arm back, and my weapons. And that means finding Kefi and Rika. Better to think things through than rush in blind. If we can understand…"

Baring his teeth at her, Albel touched the sword at his hip. "I don't have to understand anything, Zelpher. They betrayed our trust, stole our equipment, and left us in a dirty hole. That's all I need to know. Whatever reasons they have--I don't give a shit."

Narrowing her eyes, Nel frowned. "You could benefit from a little thinking, Nox," she said between her teeth. "Especially when it comes to thinking about someone other than yourself." The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them, but pride kept her silent.

Albel stared at her, his dark eyes tightening and his narrow mouth thinning into a white line. "I'll remember that the next time I rush to save you," he said, his voice cold.

Nel bit her lip as he turned his back to her. She shouldn't have said that. It wasn't true, and they both knew it. Albel was an arrogant prick, but he had shown her many times that he did consider the safety of his companions. Albeit, he the way he went about it was often rough and unconventional, but that didn't negate the fact that he was conscientious. She really was no better than any of the other ignorant people who stereotyped him as single minded and narcissistic.

But it didn't have to be that way. He cultivated the thinking of his peers and let them believe the horrible things they said about him. So wasn't he partially to blame? If his attitude wasn't so piss poor…

No. Anyone with eyes could see through Albel's rough and obtuse personality. Actions always told the truth, while words often lied. He talked mean and cared little about offending those around him, but as clouded as they were, his actions always held a purpose. He was a bit self centered, but when the time came, he easily put that flaw aside and focused on the getting the job done. That was what mattered. It wasn't his fault people were too busy being stunned by his efficiency or nursing hurt feelings to see the truth.

Nel now understood why Woltar favored the brusque solider. The old man saw him with eyes wide open. As did the Glyphian king and the men that Albel lead. She also suspected that Fayt understood too, which explained why he had always treated Albel with respect, even when the two of them vehemently disagreed.

She owed Albel an apology. Admitting she'd been wrong had always been tough to do, but her behavior was inexcusable. Swallowing her own ego, she cleared her throat. "Albel, listen," she started.

He waved a hand at her over his shoulder, not bothering to turn back around. "You're wasting our time," he growled.

"I'm trying to apologize, stupid," she snapped, instantly angry at his easy dismissal. Honestly, the man made it impossible to feel sorry for him, let alone feel bad about hurting his feelings.

Albel turned around this time, his face impassive. "Apologies," he said in a low, cold voice, "only benefit the transgressor. However, if it'll make you get your work done faster, go right ahead." He crossed his arms and stared at her.

Nel stood, openly gaping at her comrade. She'd never had someone directly turn down an apology before she'd even given it. She'd never had anyone turn down an apology--period. The stupid buffoon. How dare he insinuate that she wasn't sorry. How dare he presume to understand her feelings.

"You're right. I feel much better," she snarled, jabbing a finger in his direction. "I actually was sorry, but now I'm not, you ignorant dumbass. You can go straight to hell and rot there." She smirked at the surprised look on his face, then turned back to the runes. Let him gnaw on that bone for awhile. Maybe some people apologized only to pad their own guilt, but she wasn't one of those.

He should know that about her and it only made her angrier that he didn't. He really was an idiot. Fuming now, Nel reached out and touched the glyph with a lightly trembling hand. When it flashed, she tried to jerk her fingers away, but something icy had her in its grasp. Panicked, she turned to look at Albel, who appeared to be just as stunned as she was.

A brilliant light, pale blue like wild lightening lit up the room. The wall opened up, fading into a spiraling vortex of black and midnight, and a heavy wind rushed past Nel as the air was sucked into the void. She tried to break free, pulling with all her might against the current but it was useless. The last thing she saw was Albel leaping towards her, his dark eyes wide with fear and surprise.

* * *

Albel stood inside the eerily quiet cavern, his arm outstretched and fist empty. The jagged grey wall in front of him banked his vision, as solid as it had been only minutes before. What the hell just happened? "Zelpher!" he shouted, bruising a fist against the still warm stone. "Damn you, you stupid woman!"

Remembering his shard, he looked about madly in the dust, trying to find where he'd dropped it in his panic. He found it near the center of the room, right where he'd been standing with Zelpher had touched the runes. He scooped it up in a handful of dirt and peoples, and rushed back to the glyph.

He touched the glyph, but it had no reaction other than a faint glow of blue light. He tried again, mimicking what he'd seen Rika and Nel do, running his fingers over the circular form in a counter clockwise motion. Still nothing. "Shit!" he snarled hitting the wall with a closed fist. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" Furiously, he pulled his hair away from his face in frustration and stepped away from the wall.

She was gone.

It was his fault.

"Gods be damned!" he raged, his voice echoing in the silence. His eyes cut back to the glyph on the wall, which still glowed slightly. Rage overcame him and he drew his sword, slicing the stone in one narrow, diagonal cut. The pale stone shattered, and the glyph clattered to the floor in a shower of broken pebble.

His entire body quivered as he stood in the cave. What was he going to do now? He had to get to Citobor--and quickly. Standing around wasn't going to get him very far, he decided. He sheathed his sword with a shaky hand and started for the pathway he assumed would lead him out of the cavern.

This was something they hadn't anticipated--becoming separated. It was a careless oversight on both their parts. There was no back up plan, no pre-destined meeting place for a case such as this. Nothing. He would have to search for her in a city full of hostiles. To make matters worse, he lacked suitable weapons, shoes, supplies, a map, and money--Rika and Kefi had taken everything they had except his sword.

He would cut them slowly. Then he would hang their still breathing bodies on pikes along the roadside. He would leave the buzzards to pick at their barely breathing carcasses.

That was assuming he could even find them. A thought chilled his heart. What if he couldn't find Nel? He was assuming she would be with them, but what if that black vortex hadn't taken her to Citobor? He wouldn't even know where to begin looking. A sick feeling washed over him and he stopped walking.

"Hell fire and dragon spit," he muttered, wincing when he stepped on a sharp stone. He had to stop obsessing over the might be's and start focusing on the need to's. First, he needed to re-supply himself. That meant getting himself some shoes, and a new arm if possible. Boots would be easy to come by; he'd steal them if he had to. But the arm would pose problems. It was doubtful there was a mechanic suitable enough to prepare a decent arm for him. Not only would it take days, but it would cost money too--which he didn't have.

He'd have to do without for the time being. When he was with Nel, he hadn't been overly concerned. A bit nervous, yes, but he trusted her to back him up. Now she was gone and he was alone, preparing to infiltrate an enemy's home. He'd be a lair to say he wasn't troubled.

He would _definitely_ kill those two when he caught up with them.

He began walking. Up and up and up. Alone with nothing but the silence to magnify the thoughts in his head. He was anxious. It was a feeling he didn't like. That numbing ache in the pit of his stomach wouldn't be sedated, fueled only by the guilty thoughts in his head--it was all too familiar. It was his fault. Nel had apologized, but he'd dismissed her because his stupid sensitivities had been hurt. Why couldn't he just let things go? If she was hurt because of him…

"You're brooding again," a voice said from further up the dark tunnel.

Albel drew his sword, slowing to a stop. The only light in the place was from the low burning torches spaced along the walls. They cast long, moving shadows around his feet, making it difficult to ascertain what was real and what wasn't. He stilled, readying like a wolf to pounce, and waited for the intruder to show themselves.

The temperature in the corridor seemed to drop, and pin prickles raced along Albel's flesh. Abstract shadows flickered wildly as the torches dances in some unknown breeze. An unnatural trepidation settled like a blanket over him like a blanket as he squinted into the darkness beyond.

"You've come too far to lose ground," the voice said. "Don't disappoint me now."

Annoyed, Albel waved his katana in the direction of the words. "Who are you?" he snapped.

A laugh. "Your worst nightmare."

* * *

Nel woke up on to an insane itching sensation. She bolted upright, sputtering straw, and found herself inside what she believed to be a barn of some sort--except that it was underground. All around her were more stone walls and over head a solid ceiling of granite. Behind her, etched in the stone was another glyph, though not quite the same as the one she'd come through.

It took her a moment to remember what had happened, but the recollection hit her full on and she scrambled to the runes on the wall. Albel was still back there! He hadn't made it through. She remembered his face, so surprised and afraid as he reached for her, but he'd been too late.

She'd have to go back and get him.

She was still holding the crystal chip in her palm--so tightly it had cut her hand. She ran her fingers over the crude runes, feeling the stone pulse to life. However, the glyph only glowed faintly, then went dead. "Dammit," Nel whispered, staring hopelessly at the carving. It only went one way, apparently. As inconvenient as it was for her, it did make for good security. The people who created them weren't idiots.

But Albel had a stone of his own. He should have followed her by now, but obviously, he was no where to be seen. Was there some reason the magic didn't work for him? He could wield some support magic, but knew nothing about runes--not as she did. Maybe a person had to understand rune magic to use the portals?

She shook her head. No, runes didn't work like that. All he had to do was mimic what she or Rika had done and the glyph should have worked for him. The stone was the key, much like the runes on her body were the key to her magic. There had to be something else.

Nel looked over her surroundings, studying the makeshift stalls and dusty tack hanging from poorly carved stone hooks. She scratched her head and closed her eyes. Apris, this was a mess. If she was really in Citobor, Fayt was waiting for her. He was her objective and the objective always came first. However, Albel was alone, with nothing but the clothes on his back and minus one arm. It was her fault he was involved in this mess. She couldn't just abandon him.

She wouldn't abandon him. The objective did come first, but that only meant she had to free Fayt and then go find Albel. Albel was a seasoned solider, he could take care of himself. In fact, he'd probably be angry if she came for him first, seeing it as an insult to his abilities as a warrior and as a man. He'd be fine on his own.

Wouldn't he?

Would she?

Self doubt was something Nel had little use for, but now it was eating her from the inside out. Having Albel with her had given her a sense of security. He was a powerful comrade--and she knew he would take care of her if there was trouble. Now she was planning on leaving him to his own devices while he was vulnerable. It made her sick to think about it. And of course, the demons were lurking about, probably waiting for an opportunity like this one.

She knew she wouldn't stand a chance if they came at her now. Nor would Albel, and he was more likely to be the target. Her choice could sentence him to life or death. That was a responsibility she didn't wish to bear.

"What would he want me to do?" she murmured.

For a long while she stood in the barn-cave, mulling over her options. Finally, she came to a decision. She knew what he would want her to do. Tucking the stone into her pocket, she cast a backwards glance at the dead glyph.

"I'm sorry, Albel," she whispered. Her heart heavy, she made her way through the cave and disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

_Sorry for the long delay. Sometimes life takes you for a wild ride and these past couple months have been quite the roll coaster indeed. It's not over yet, so I'm not sure how frequent updates will be. I apologize. Thanks for sticking by me though. You're all great._


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